


The Mind's Manipulations

by walmer92



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canonical Character Death, Homophobia, M/M, Season/Series 05, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walmer92/pseuds/walmer92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after Justin's return from LA, Brian wakes up on the floor of his loft, his last memory of picking up a blond trick under a street light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who The Fuck Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was begun and primarily written in 2007, but wasn't actually completed until 2009. I will be putting specific warnings into the notes of each chapter, but please bear in mind that the story involves references to and descriptions of sexual abuse and rape of a child, consensual sex between a minor and an adult and adult rape/non-con. As this is a Queer as Folk story it should be fairly obvious, but each chapter may and is likely to contain graphic consensual sex between two men, swearing, and drug and alcohol abuse. These will not be warned for in each chapter. If any of the issues listed here upsets or offends you, I would suggest that you not read this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains references to and descriptions of physical abuse of a child by their parent, and consensual sex with a minor.

"Aah."

Brian groaned. His head was pounding, and his body felt as though he had been slowly squeezed through a mangle. Cracking his eyes open, and wincing at the light, he waited for his vision to clear.

Finally, he saw the half empty bottle of Jim Beam lying near his hand, and the several empty bottles of alcohol scattered around him. Grimacing slightly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, and looked around.

Something was different. His head was still muzzy from last night's drinking binge, but he was almost positive that he didn't used to have that sofa. Or that coffee table. In fact - fuck, everything was wrong. Slowly, he stood and staggered over to the living room.

Yes, he was sure that this was different. What the fuck? He looked blearily around him, unsure what to do. Eventually he decided that there was no point trying to figure it out when he felt as if he had shit for brains, and moved slowly over to the fridge.

When he opened it, he was astonished to find milk. Fucking milk. And what looked like actual food instead of just poppers and beer. Nonplussed, he turned to the nearest cabinet. It was also stocked with what looked like - Oreos? When had he started eating Oreos? When had he started eating refined carbs?

All these questions were making his head hurt, and doing nothing to help him figure out what was going on. He turned back to the fridge to get some water when the door to the loft was pushed open loudly, causing him to wince and put a hand to his head.

He turned, expecting to see Mikey, but instead was confronted with an unfamiliar blond. A gorgeous blond with a nice ass, Brian was quick to note, but one who definitely had no business having a key to his loft. Brian sighed. Knowing his luck it was some disgruntled trick who'd somehow stolen a key.

Ah well, better to get this over with. He moved towards the blond, who was staring at him with an unimpressed expression on his face, and held out his hand.

"Hand it over."

"What?"

The blond looked puzzled.

"The key," Brian said impatiently. "I'm very flattered, but I don't do relationships. So give me your key to this place, and go on your merry way, and I won't call the police."

The guy stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

"What. The fuck. Are you talking about? Have you gone insane?"

"Considering I'm not the one stalking me, I'm gonna say out of the two of us, you're the one most likely to be insane. Now come on, I don't have all fucking day. Some of us have to work for a living."

"Brian, I haven't stalked you in years. I _live_ here, remember? So, I'm not gonna hand over my fucking key."

Brian looked at him with an expression of awe on his face.

"You really are insane," he said, almost to himself.

"I don't do relationships," he told the blond again. "I don't do love. I do fucking. Getting in and out with the maxi-"

"-mum amount of pleasure, and the minimum amount of bullshit," the blond finished for him. Brian hated it when people did that. "Look, just give it up already. I know we fight, but I'm here to fucking stay, ok? You should have learnt a long time ago there's not much you can do that will get rid of me." He sounded exasperated yet fond, as though he knew Brian, knew all his little quirks and mannerisms well. Brian stared at him.

"Brian, stop fucking around. You know it's me, don't you?" the blond pleaded. "It's me, Justin."

"I don't know any Justin."

"Oh, shit." The blond looked around and took in all the empty bottles on the floor. "Oh, shit. Brian, you stupid prick. You drank yourself unconscious, and you've got fucking amnesia. Oh, shit." He collapsed into a chair by the counter, and put his head in his hands.

Brian regarded him steadily.

"I don't have fucking amnesia."

The blond lifted his head.

"Oh really? Then why is the loft different? Why do I have a key? Why do I know so much about you?"

"You don't know anything about me," Brian said gruffly, but the fog was begin to lift from his mind, and the blond - Justin - was making too much sense for his liking.

Justin took a deep breath, and began to reel out a list.

"Your best friend is called Michael. You've known each other since you were fourteen, and he's in love with you. Your father is called Jack Kinney, and he's an abusive drunk who doesn't know you're gay." Justin was speaking in a carefully calm voice, but Brian still winced at the mention of his father.

"Your mother, Joan Kinney, doesn't know either. She's a bitter, alcoholic old woman, who's obsessed with the church. Your real mother, Debbie, is Michael's mom, and she works at the Liberty Diner. You got into Carnegie Mellon on a soccer scholarship and-"

"Alright," Brian cut him off. "So you know a lot of shit about me. But you could have found that stuff out from...from."

"Yes?" the blond asked, and the look on his face was so desperate that Brian almost believed him. Almost.

"If you don't believe me, call Michael," Justin suggested, noting the look of skepticism on Brian's face. Slowly Brian nodded. He still wasn't ready to believe this guy's story, but he thought he was probably gonna need Mikey anyway.

Reaching for the phone, he pressed speed dial 1. Two seconds later the song 'Let's Hear it for the Boy' could be heard coming from Justin's pants. He smiled sheepishly, and dug out his cell phone.

"You might wanna try number 2," he suggested, turning it off. Brian stared at him for a minute before pushing speed dial 2. The evidence was mounting that he really did have amnesia.

'No,' his mind protested. 'No, that can't be-'

"Wassup."

Someone had picked up the phone, but it sure as hell wasn't Michael.

"Uh - is Michael there?" The voice on the other end of the phone sighed.

"Figures you'd wanna talk to him when I could _really_ help you out. Fine. But you ever decide you want something more than Blondie can give you, give me a call."

Brian was now close to hyperventilating. Or he would have been if Brian Kinney did that. But no, Brian fucking Kinney always kept his cool.

"Brian?"

Oh thank fuck it was Michael.

"Mikey?" Brian said, and then winced at the note of pleading in his voice. "Mikey, there's a blond in the loft that says - that says.... and bottles on the floor and I don't remember anything, and who the fuck is he?"

There was a pause as Michael tried to work out what Brian had just said.

"Brian, did you break up with Justin _again_?" By this point Brian was close to tears.

"Who THE FUCK is JUSTIN!"

"What do you mean, who's Justin? The guy you've been living with - sort of - for the past four years. The guy you're in a complete non-relationship with."

"Michael," Brian said as patiently as he could, "I haven't lived with someone else since I left college. I have never, will never, be in a fucking relationship! All I know is that there is a blond sitting in my loft claiming that he knows me, and that I have fucking amnesia. I cannot have fucking amnesia. Now, will you please try and help me sort this the fuck out."

"Oh, fuck," Michael muttered to himself. "Brian, I'm sorry, but I think you really do have amnesia."

"I do not have fucking AMNESIA!" Brian roared into the phone. Then his whole throat seemed to close up and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. He began to take in huge gasps of air.

Justin, who had been watching the whole display quietly from where he sat at the counter, jumped up and ran over to him, taking the phone from his hand.

"Easy, easy," he murmured, carefully lowering Brian to the floor. "Just breathe, ok? Just keep breathing."

Brian glared at him, but managed to slow his breathing down. When it was under control, he lay back on the floor, reluctant to get up. He'd woken up on the floor before all this started. Maybe if he went back to sleep where he was and woke up, everything would go back to normal. The floor was safe.

Justin picked up the phone.

"Michael?" he said. "Yeah, it looks like he's got amnesia. How should I know? What's the last thing you remember?" he asked, directing the last statement to Brian.

Brian glared at him again, but closed his eyes and tried to remember.

"Got a blow job at Babylon," he said. "Crap technique." He chuckled. "Went outside to meet up with Mikey and the boys. And then I saw - fuck, it was you."

"He just remembered me," Justin said dryly into the phone. "No, just that first night. I'll meet you there. Bye."

"C'mon, big guy," he said turning to Brian. "Let's go see the doctor."

<<<<>>>> 

Brian was sitting in a hard plastic hospital chair tapping his foot. When the woman sitting next to him glared he stopped, only to start tapping his fingers. When he realized what he was doing, he glared at his own hand, forcing it to stop. He didn't understand where all of this nervous energy had come from. Brian Kinney did not get nervous.

Justin looked over at him, and chuckled. Brian directed his glare at him.

"Neither of us like hospitals very much anymore," Justin explained. "I guess your body remembers, even if you don't."

"For the last fucking time," Brian snarled, "I don't have amnesia."

"Then why are you here?" the blond asked, smiling calmly.

"Because, because if I can prove to you that YOU'RE the one who's insane, you might just leave me alone," Brian said desperately. Justin sighed.

"What year is it?" he asked.

"1999," Brian told him promptly, then looked up at the TV hanging off the wall as Justin gestured to it. The news program showing had the date running across the top of the screen. 19th of February 2005. Fuck.

He turned back to the blond, who smiled at him again.

"Just look at it this way," he told Brian. "You missed Valentines Day." Brian just stared at him.

"Brian Kinney," the doctor called out, just as Michael ran through the waiting room doors. He was obviously out of breath, and Justin abandoned Brian to go and pat Michael on the back. For the moment, Brian felt irritated. Who exactly had amnesia here? Then he remembered that he didn't have amnesia.

"Brian Kinney," the doctor called again.

"Over here," Justin called out, then as Brian scowled at him carried on, "well over there, but I'm with him. I'm his boyfriend." This caused Brian to scowl even more darkly, but Justin and Michael ignored him as they made their way towards the doctor.

Brian gaped. Mikey _ignored_ him. Well that was a first. He walked towards the doctor as well, listening to Justin greet him as Michael absently kissed him on the cheek.

"Dr Richards," Justin said with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

The kindly looking doctor peered at him for a moment over his glasses, and then broke into a smile.

"Justin Taylor. Well you do look better than the last time we saw each other. And in a bit of a better mood too." Justin blushed, remembering how often he had let his temper get the better of him while in hospital.

"So what have you done to land yourself back here, hmm?" Justin smiled to himself, thinking that Dr Richards sounded just like his grandfather. It was nice in a way; it helped him to keep down the panic he had been feeling ever since Brian had held his hand out and asked for the key.

"Oh, it's not me," he told the doctor. "It's my partner, Brian-"

"Kinney," the doctor finished for him. "Oh yes, I remember you. He was here every night, you know," he told Justin and Michael. "I'd be here at five in the morning, just starting my shift, and he'd just be sitting there, watching you."

Justin and Michael gaped at him, then simultaneously turned their eyes to Brian. Brian decided he didn't like it. It was too strange seeing Mikey being so familiar with someone he barely remembered.

"What," he said, uncomfortable with their scrutiny. "It's not like I _remember_ it."

"You don't remember?" the doctor murmured to himself as Justin and Michael continued to stare. Justin's head snapped back to the doctor.

"No," he told him, "that's why we're here. Brian woke up this morning feeling - a little younger."

Brian paled.

"Oh fuck," he exclaimed. "I'm old. Mikey, I'm old! If this is 2005, I have to be fucking 34! Jesus Christ." His voice had risen almost an octave, and his hands had grabbed on to the front of Michael's shirt. Michael looked around helplessly. Carefully, Justin laid his hand on Brian's arm.

"Hey, it's ok," he murmured soothingly. His hand trailed down Brian's arm to his clenched hands. "Did you look in a mirror before we left? Because there is no one who thinks you're old. You're the hottest fag in Pittsburgh." As he spoke, Justin was slowly pulling Brian's fingers away from Michael's shirt. "Even Michael's kid is in love with you, and he's only 16. So just relax, ok?"

His hands finally free of Michael's shirt, Brian allowed Justin to hold them. For some reason he didn't understand, he found the blonde’s voice soothing, and his hands reassuring instead of confining. Then what Justin had said finally hit him.

"You have a kid?" he said, turning to Michael, but continuing to hold Justin's hands.

Michael smiled weakly. "It's a long story," he told Brian. Brian opened his mouth to reply, but Doctor Richards cut in.

"Perhaps we could continue this discussion somewhere more private," he suggested. Brian looked as though he wanted to protest, but followed when Justin tugged on his hands.

The doctor led them into a hospital room lined with beds, and drew the curtain around the nearest empty one, gesturing for Brian to lie down. Feeling mutinous, Brian continued to stand, and Justin took the proffered seat.

"So what exactly lead to this problem," the doctor inquired mildly.

"Ask him," Justin said, waving his hands at Brian. "I don't know a thing. Just that I came back to find the loft covered in empty bottles of whiskey, and him saying he doesn't remember anything since the night he met me."

"Why weren't you there?" Michael enquired before the doctor could reply.

"Well..." Justin trailed off, and looked at the floor. Michael groaned.

"I knew it," he proclaimed. "You two broke up again, didn't you?" Justin looked up, his face bright red.

"We did NOT break up," he said. "We had a disagreement, which lead to Brian asking me, oh so politely, to go fuck myself, and me even more politely taking off and spending the night at Daphne's. That's not breaking up, that's just...." He trailed off.

"Breaking up?" Michael supplied helpfully.

"That's just me and Brian," Justin corrected him. "And it's not like it hasn't happened before," he told the doctor. "Brian and I, don't always get on."

"Was there a physical aspect to your disagreement?" the doctor asked. Justin looked shocked.

"No," he said. "Never - well once. One time there was. But never before, or since. I would never, never hurt him."

Brian snorted, drawing the doctor’s attention back to him.

"You'd be surprised how often it is the weaker of the pair who is the abuser," Dr Richards told him sternly. "I would have been extremely surprised to find Mr. Taylor doing anything of the kind, given the way he spoke of you while under my care , but still, it was a question that unfortunately had to be asked, and not a subject to be laughed at."

Outwardly Brian showed little reaction to the Doctor's words, but inside he was surprised at the level of emotion and sincerity he had heard in Justin's voice. The idea that anyone could feel so strongly about him was - impossible in his mind, and not more than a little overwhelming.

"Was there anything different about this particular disagreement?" The doctor turned his attention back to Justin. "Any reason Brian might have taken it to mean something more serious than it did?"

"No-o," Justin said, drawing out the word. "Nothing strange about the - the disagreement itself. But normally when Brian and I fight, he goes out, goes to the baths, or Babylon to..." his voice trailed off, his face blushing a bright red once again as he looked at the doctor.

"Quite," the doctor said sounding amused. "And this is usual in your relationship? It wasn't something done to punish you, but a normal state of affairs which you were both comfortable with?"

Justin nodded, seeming relieved that the doctor had spoken before him. As far as Brian could tell, the blond didn't embarrass easily, but he had to admit even he might have blanched at describing his sex life to this kind fatherly man. He was also pleased to note that he didn't seem to be completely cockwhipped. If Brian Kinney was in a relationship - something he still wasn't ready to admit - at least it was on his terms.

"But this time it didn't go that way. Or at least I don't think it did. He hasn't changed his clothes since yesterday." He cast a glance at Brian and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "And drunk or not, there is no way in hell Brian would be seen out in that."

Brian looked down at himself, and barely managed to smother a groan when he realized that he was wearing old threadbare sweats, and a T-Shirt he could actually remember having bought some years previously.

"So it looks as if we're down to two options," the doctor told them. "Either Brian has suffered a traumatic experience, or has received a blow to the head. Unless you showered," he said to Brian, "before you came in, I would be surprised to find that it was a head wound, as this kind of blow will almost certainly cause blood loss, and I can't see bruising or blood anywhere on your face. Is your head sore?"

"Only from the hang over."

"Hmm. Well, I had better put you in for a CT scan to be sure. Beyond that, you are welcome to make use of the hospital psychologist, or I can recommend someone else, if you prefer."

"That's it? I have fucking amnesia, and all you're going to do is take a peek at my head, and then send me on my merry way?"

"Mr. Kinney," the doctor said calmly. "I have recommended follow up sessions with a psychologist. You might also try finding out what event precipitated this one. The mind is a very delicate thing, and not something I am qualified to help with. I am afraid there is simply nothing more I can do for you. You may regain your memory in time. If not, then you will just have to relearn how to live your life. I am truly sorry," he said more gently, "but there's nothing more I can do for you."

<<<<>>>> 

Brian woke to find himself lying on a bed, entangled with another body. Gently, he unwrapped himself from Justin and moved across to his side of the bed. The bed was his bed, one of the few things in the loft that didn't seem to have changed. It was a marked improvement from his last awakening. Glancing over at the pale body sprawled on the bed beside him, he sighed, mentally reliving the past evening.

He had been in shock on the way back from the hospital, not only at the thought that this was even happening, that he really had amnesia, and it was the year two thousand and fucking five, but that there was not a fucking thing he could do to fix it. Brian Kinney was a man of action. If there was a problem, he did something about it. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Something he did badly.

He didn't even want to think about the fact that he seemed to have a live in lover. They had parted with Mikey at the hospital, with a promise from Justin that he would keep him updated on the situation, and promise from Michael to keep everyone away. The entire ride was silent, for which Brian would be eternally grateful.

Neither had said a word until they were both stand in the loft, staring at each other, completely unsure of what to say. Finally, Justin broke the silence.

"I'm fucking starving," he told Brian, the cheery demeanor he had somehow managed to keep on his face the entire day all but gone. "You want Thai?"

He had been so relieved to think about something, anything other than this situation that he had actually considered the idea with care, turning it around in his mind. He wouldn't mind Thai, he figured, but right now he wanted to do nothing more than get completely stoned. For that, he needed more ammunition.

Looking regretfully down at his still slim waistline, he told Justin, "No. Right now I don't give a shit what I eat. I want some fucking pizza."

Justin stared at him for a moment, then turned to get the phone.

"Wait."

Justin turned back, phone in hand.

"Don't you need to know what I want?" Brian asked somewhat awkwardly.

"I already know," Justin told him gently, then turned back to find the pizza take out menu. Brian stared at him for a moment, and then sank down on the sofa with a groan. This whole thing was just too strange. And the idea that someone actually knew him that well was - disquieting, to say the least.

"Do I still keep the weed in the same place?" he asked, looking up at Justin. Justin just nodded.

They shared a joint as they waited for the pizza, handing it silently back and forth between them. This time, Brian broke the quiet.

"So, what's been happening for the past five years?"

Justin started at the sound of his voice, and then looked uncomfortable.

"Um...I'm not really sure if I should tell you. I mean, amnesia victims are supposed to try and remember for themselves and-"

"Well there's some stuff I'm gonna have to know, right?" Brian cut him off as soon as he heard the word victim. He was not a victim. The world might throw punches at him, but he would stand up and take them, and show the world that they didn't matter, and he did. He would never be a fucking victim.

"Like I need to know where I work now. I must have made partner by now, right? And Mikey said he has a kid. It's gonna be pretty hard for me not to notice things like that."

Anything to stay on neutral fucking subjects.

"I guess," Justin still looked a bit unsure, but he started talking, so Brian must have convinced him.

"Well, you're not a partner." For a moment, Brian was disappointed, but then he swept that feeling away. No regrets, even for things he didn't remember.

"Ryder's still a cheap fuck, right?"

"No," Justin told him, and for the first time since they had entered the loft, he had smiled. "He sold the firm to Gardner Vance. It's called Vanguard now. You were about the only person he didn't fire. But then you started helping this homophobic prick run for mayor - until he shut down the backroom at Babylon."

Brian's horror must have shown on his face, because Justin chuckled, and told him "yeah, that was pretty much your reaction then too. You took a sledge hammer to the backroom door, helped me fuck your client over, and after he had you fired, you blew $100, 000 on a commercial to help bring him down."

Brian gaped at him. "No fucking way did I put my career and money on the line for something like that."

"That's what everyone else said. But you did. And then once the entire gay community clubbed together to help pay your debts - and yes, you actually accepted their help," he said at the look of disbelief on Brian's face, "you started your own agency. It's called Kinnetik, and it's amazing. You also own Babylon, and you actually trust Ted Schmidt to look after some of your accounts."

At this, Brian had been even more shocked, and Justin had gone on to tell him more details of his life, about Mikey, and Ben and the littlest hustler, about Temmet, and the subsequent horrors. Brian had suffered not a little consternation over the existence of Gus and Jenny Rebecca, but he'd managed to come somewhat to terms with the idea of his new life. Until Justin had dropped the big bombshell.

"About a year ago, you had cancer," he told Brian carefully. "Testicular cancer."

"Fuck," is about all Brian can think of to say.

"They got it all," Justin had gone on, "and you're fine now. But you're missing a ball."

"SHIT!" Extremely alarmed, Brian groped his own crotch, relieved to still find two balls there.

"They gave you a prosthetic replacement."

Brian's face had drained almost entirely of color, and his breathing had again become labored, until Justin had come and rubbed his back, and made him breathe with him.

"Never had a panic attack before in my life, and then I get two at once," Brian said weakly. "My life is unfuckingbelievably unfair."

"Panic attacks do tend to be a side effect of amnesia," Justin told him dryly.

"How do you know so much about amnesia patients?" Brian asked quickly, to try and change the subject.

Justin looked at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

"Because I am one." His tone was flat, and his face was completely without expression.

"Just after your thirtieth birthday," and Brian had to wince, because it was impossible not to think of himself as 29, "I had my high school prom. We'd been, well, not dating, because of course, Brian Kinney doesn't do dates. But I was the one you broke your no repeats rule for and fucked time and time again. So I asked you to come with me. Of course you said no. And that's the last thing I remember."

Brian didn't know this kid, and was certainly not one to be comforting, but there had been something so - lost - about the way Justin looked right then, that without thinking about it, he covered the small pale hand with his own.

"What happened?" he asked in a low voice.

"They say, they say I went with my best friend, Daphne," Justin went on. "They say that even though you said no, you turned up, and we danced just one dance together, and you kissed me in front of all of them, in front of every single fag hating breeder in that place. They say that I went with you to your Jeep, and then I left to take Daphne home. And then this bit, this bit I actually remember for myself."

His voice had been almost cracking with the strain of not breaking down, and he had turned his hand and gripped Brian's so hard that it hurt, but he went on.

"You call my name. To warn me, although I don't know it then. And I turn, with this huge fucking smile still on my face. And this asshole called Chris Hobbs hits me in the head with a baseball bat. I woke up three days later with a whole chunk of memory missing. So although it's not quite the same, I have some idea of what you're going through."

"Yeah," Brian whispered quietly. "I guess you do." He had felt uncomfortable then, and tried to say something to lighten the mood.

"So after that, we had the picture perfect breeder relationship?" he asked.

To his relief, Justin had laughed.

"Fuck no. After the bashing, you wouldn't even come to see me at the hospital. Or at least, I didn't think you had, till today. I still can't get over that." Justin shook his head, and Brian had had to agree with him, because he didn't understand it himself. "You felt guilty I guess, although everyone else knew that you had saved me. The GLC even gave you an award."

"Those fuckers?" Justin had laughed again and Brian remembered thinking that it was a beautiful sound.

"Yeah, although you didn't turn up to get it. And then my Mom wouldn't let me see you - and then she made me move in with you, because you were the only one who could deal with my drama after the bashing. And then neither of us could deal, me trying so hard to be my own man, at the same time as being the person you wanted me to be, and you trying so hard to look after me, and not be in a relationship at the same time. In the end - " he took a deep breath again and went on "In the end I cheated on you, and left you."

And although maybe he shouldn't have, Brian had felt relieved, because it meant that what they had was nothing like the happy hetero fantasy he had always hated. Although he'd prefer to think that he wasn’t stupid enough to get into a relationship at all.

"So how did we get back together?" he had asked, curious.

"Oh, the same way I got you the first time," Just said airily. "I stalked your ass everywhere. Even got an internship at Vanguard. God you were so pissed off with me. Fired me at the first opportunity. But I came back and told you to give me a second chance. And you did. And fucked me across your desk to celebrate." He grinned, and Brian grinned with him, because even if he couldn't remember it, from the way the kid was smiling, it must have been great sex.

"I moved back in here a couple of months ago," Justin had told him then. "The rest, as they say, is history."

"So," Brian had said thoughtfully, "five years. I guess you must really love me, huh?" The concept had been so strange to him that he had had to verbalize it, to try and make some sense of it. Love, this type of love, had no place in his life. Looking slightly worried, Justin nodded. Brian hadn't blamed him. He had been worried at hearing himself talk about love.

His next question worried them both even more.

"So, do I love you?"

Justin just stared at him for long moment, the silence stretching out between them. The buzzer saved them both. They ate their pizza without saying a word, both of them wisely deciding that this silence should remain unbroken.

Finally, there was nothing to do but go to sleep. Brian looked uncertainly at the bed.

"I guess, you could sleep on the couch?" he had suggested before he was confronted with an angry blond.

"Fuck that. This is my fucking home."

"Well, it's my fucking loft, as I paid for it, and I don't sleep with fucking anyone." His nerves, already stretched thin, had been close to breaking, and he had shouted at the blond, just wanting this day to be over, so that maybe he could wake up and find out that it was all a dream.

"Well, you sleep with me alright? You've done it since the first night, and every other fucking time that we've fucked in this place, so get used to it!" Justin had yelled back.

His words should have Brian angrier, but instead they brought back a sudden spurt of memories. Of him stripping in front of this boy, and challenging him to stay. Of him teaching this kid about rimming, and then fucking his brains out, knowing that he was the first to do it. Of fucking in the shower the next morning, at first just to shut the kid up, and then because he wanted him more than he had thought possible for someone he had already had.

And all the fear, and desire had welled up inside of him, and his arms had shot out, grabbing Justin to him, and then he had kissed him, pouring all of that feeling into the willing vessel in front of him. They had fallen to the bed, clawing at each other’s clothes, and then when they were finally both naked, Brian was surprised at how well he seemed to know this kid's body. How he seemed to know just where to bite, kiss, nibble to drive him crazy.

But he wasn't given long to think about it as, with his body on over drive, he had pushed Justin onto his back, and grabbed a condom and lube. Putting the condom on, he reached for the lube and began to prepare Justin, but in no time at all the kid was rutting against him, fucking himself on his fingers, and begging Brian to fuck him.

Brian had willingly complied, and pulling his fingers out of the boy, had plunged his rock hard cock into Justin's tight hole. Reaching down he kissed him to ease the sting of entry, and then found himself unable to stop kissing him as he thrust inside of his body. The taste of his mouth had been addictive, and Brian hadn't been able to get enough.

With his hand wrapped around Justin's cock, it had been over all too soon, with Justin coming in shuddering waves, his body contracting around Brian's dick and pulling him along with him.

Afterwards, when Brian had disposed of the condom, and cleaned both of them off as best he could, Justin had told him that it was a mistake.

"Why?" Brian had asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because I'm in love with you. And where you are right now, you don't love me. And if you don't get your memory back, you might never feel anything for me. I can't fuck you, and not have it mean something, that's all."

"Jesus," Brian had griped, to try and cover up the strange tug he felt in his heart from those words. "Can fags not just have meaningless sex anymore? That's what we're supposed to be about. Or we used to be."

"Oh, I can have meaningless fucks with the best of them," Justin returned. "We're hardly monogamous. I just can't have meaningless sex with you."

Unsure of what to say, Brian had settled with the truth.

"I know," he had said. "I remembered a bit more of the night we met," he had gone on when Justin looked at him quizzically. "Even that first night with you, it was - different. And as for what we just did, that was different from any trick I've ever had. I - felt - something."

Slowly, Justin had smiled. "Well who'd have thunk it," he grinned. "Brian Kinney admitting to having an emotion. I always knew you fell for me that first night."

'Shit' Brian had thought. He'd obviously given away more than he, at this time or any other, had intended to. But at the same time, he wasn't up to dealing with the repercussions of an unhappy, broken hearted guy that he'd just fucked, and for some strange reason seemed to care about. Although these new emotions scared the shit out of him, he was too scared, (although he'd never admit it) to do anything but give in.

So he'd told Justin that they would talk about it in the morning, and hadn't even protested when the boy had curled about against him before falling asleep. As strange as it seemed, it had actually felt alright. More than that. It had felt impossible that it could be wrong.

Now he lay in bed, and looked at the kid lying beside him.

'Should really stop calling him a kid,' he thought. 'He's obviously a man. He just still looks so young.' But then he thought back on all the things Justin had told had happened since the night they met. No, no matter how young he looked, this was definitely a man.

Looking at that peaceful face, the face, really, of a stranger, Brian Kinney thought that he might be ok.

And with that thought, he wrapped himself back around the man he'd known for five years, and only met yesterday, and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

<<<<>>>> 

Brian opened his closet, and sighed with bliss. Everything in there looked new, five years ahead of all the clothes he could remember having. This, if nothing else, might actually be worth this trip to the future.

And that, thought Brian, was exactly what this whole thing was in the end. A trip to the future. It was just that he couldn't exactly get back in a time machine to go home like they did in the movies.

"Brian, what are you doing?" came a sleepy voice from the bed. Brian jumped a little, still not used to the idea of sharing the loft with anyone else. He covered up his surprise with a shrug, and turned to face the other man.

"Getting dressed," he told him. "I still have to work, don't I?"

"Brian, you don't even know where work is. You don't even know what your car is!"

"I don't have the Jeep anymore?" Brian asked. It was one of the things he hadn't expected to change. Although he'd used a variety of different models, he'd owned a Jeep since he bought one, second hand, at the age of 21, and fixed it up at a friend's garage.

A blond head emerged from the pile of covers on the bed and grinned at him.

"Nope. In the short interlude when we weren't fucking you bought a ridiculous fake dick that is almost impossible to get into. Michael called it boyfriend replacement therapy."

"And what did I say to Mikey?"

"I think you told him to fuck off." Suddenly Justin's grin grew even wider. "You know, as horrible and awful as this obviously is-"

"Obviously," Brian put in.

"-It could actually be some fun," Justin finished. Then he yawned and laid his head back down on the pillow.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Just gone seven," Brian told him.

Justin seemed to think for a minute, and then replied, "ok, you go put some coffee on, and I'll take a shower, and take you to work. We'll figure the rest out from there."

"Are you normally this demanding?" Brian asked with amusement as Justin dragged himself out of bed.

"That's me, bossy bottom," Justin said as he went into the bathroom. Then he poked his head back out and smiled sweetly. "Just like you." He disappeared again, and Brian stared after him.

The sound of the shower starting brought him back to senses, and he went to the kitchen, automatically making the coffee.

He had bottomed, actually bottomed for someone? It was something he had promised himself he would never do again, not after -

"Well, so much for not being cockwhipped," he mumbled to himself. He poured himself a strong cup of coffee, and loaded it with sugar. Sipping it, he found himself longing for the diner's coffee, which might taste like battery acid, but packed more of a punch than any other coffee he'd ever found.

He was staring transfixed into his cup when Justin came out of the shower.

"Anything interesting in there?" he asked with a laugh.

"Brian?" he tried again when the other man didn't respond. "Brian, what is it? Oh, shit," he said, remembering his parting comment. "Look, Brian, I'm sorry if I scared you, I just keep forgetting that you're not used to - us - anymore. I'm just, I'm sorry," he finished helplessly.

Brian finally looked up. "I really let you top me?"

"Yes," Justin replied cautiously.

"I never - I never let anyone - "

"I know," Justin told him quickly. "You never, _never_ , let anyone else, and me extremely rarely."

"When was the first time?"

"I don't know if I-"

"WHEN!"

Justin bit his lip and looked down at the counter.

"On my birthday. My eighteenth birthday, the first one I had after I met you. We had danced at Babylon the night before, and you asked me what I wanted. I told you I wanted to fuck you, but I'd asked for that before, and you had always said no. This time, you just laughed and kept dancing with me, and then you took me back here and fucked me.

"The next day, you called my school to say that I was sick, and told Deb I wouldn't be in for my shift at the diner. We fucked all day long. You tied me up and fucked me, you used dildos and vibrators. You used anal beads for the first time. It was the longest we had ever fucked."

Brian could see Justin's cock hardening as he remembered, and his own began to take an interest, but he fought the arousal down, intent on learning exactly how this had come about.

"And then you told me to rim you." Justin's voice was soft with the memory of that day. "I'd never done it before, and I was nervous, but I just did everything you'd done to me, and you seemed to like it. I know I did. It was the most - intimate experience I had had with you up to that point. Then you pulled me up, and got out a condom, and I figured you were going to fuck me.

"But instead you looked into my eyes, really, really hard, and asked me, was I sure that I wanted to fuck you? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought you were playing a game and I was angry. I tried to get away, but you just held on and asked me again.

_"Do you really want to fuck me?" Brian asked, an odd gleam in his eyes._

_Angry, angry and desperate, and hating that Brian could get to him like this every fucking time, Justin yelled out his answer. "You fucking know I do!"_

_Then Brian asked, "Do you love me?" And then Justin was sure it was a game, because Brian hated hearing those words from him. And he closed his eyes and whispered despairingly "You know I do." And he burrowed his way into Brian's chest, hating that the source of his pain was also his source of comfort._

_But Brian's fingers gripped firmly under his chin, and lifted his face up so that they were eye to eye._

_"Say it."_

_"Brian-"_

_"SAY it."_

_"I love you." And then Justin hid his face again, wanting to get away from whatever game Brian was playing with him now, because any other day he might have been able to take it, but on today, on his birthday, he'd hoped for just a little bit more._

_But then he felt Brian shift, felt a little foil packet being pushed into his hand, felt Brian turn so that he was face down on the bed._

_He stared at him for a long moment, unable to believe that this was happening, but Brian didn't move away when he tentatively touched his back, and his confidence grew. He wanted to say something, anything, to mark the moment, but wisely decided to stay quiet._

_Instead, he slicked his fingers with lube, and slid one halfway into Brian's hole. Brian groaned slightly, but otherwise gave no reaction. Brian was tight, tighter than the other two guys he'd fucked, and knowing that this must be the first time Brian had been fucked in a very long time, he moved his finger carefully._

_When the grip on his finger loosened slightly, he slid it in the rest of the way, and then began to thrust gently. After some time, he added another finger, and then carefully, a third. By this time, Brian was groaning in a way Justin had never heard before, and pushing back on his fingers._

_He'd told Justin several times now to get on with it and fuck him, but Justin had ignored him, and his own impatience and fear that Brian would change his mind. He'd prefer that Brian never let him fuck him than that Brian would get hurt._

_Finally though, his three fingers were slipping easily in and out, and he was so turned on that he thought he might come without so much as touching himself. Pulling his fingers out of Brian, he fumbled the condom open, and put it on, then positioned himself at Brian's hole, and gently pushed in._

_Just an inch inside him, he heard Brian gasp, and using all his will power he stilled until Brian pushed back on his dick. Slowly, he inched forward, extremely cautiously. Although he'd never tell anyone this (for fear of castration by Brian), Justin's dick was only an inch shorter than his lover's, and perhaps little wider. He didn't want to hurt Brian at all._

_Brian, however, had different ideas, and with Justin only halfway inside, pushed back until he was entirely impaled on Justin's cock. Both let out a loud groan, and Justin was extremely grateful for the amount of times they'd already come that day. This enabled him both to not come just from the feeling of being inside Brian, and to keep still while Brian adjusted to having him inside._

_Finally, he began to move slowly in and out, making small shallow thrusts, and savoring the feel of Brian clenching around him. Gradually, he began to move more quickly, unable to hold back. He had never imagined anything could feel as good as fucking Brian did. He wondered it this was how Brian felt when fucking him._

_Then he hit Brian's prostate, and Brian clenched hard around him, and Justin no longer cared. Knowing that he was close, he concentrated on hitting Brian's prostate with every thrust, and reached down to tug on Brian's cock._

_He jabbed again and again at the small bundle of nerves inside his lover, until Brian came with a shout; his hole spasming around Justin's cock, and tipping him over the edge._

"And then when we'd cleaned up, you held me and we fell asleep together," Justin finished. "It was the first time you let me hold you when we slept."

Brian stared at him, overwhelmed by the scene Justin had just painted for him.

"Are you alright?" Justin asked him. "I know you don't bottom often, but-"

"I _never_ bottom," Brian cut in without thinking. "Never."

"But...." Justin's voice trailed off as he took in the full impact of Brian's words.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that," Brian said eventually. "Whomever I turned into obviously didn't want you to know. But I guess since I let the cat out of the bag, I might as well tell you everything."

Justin nodded, still shocked.

"Did I ever tell you about my first time? With my coach?" When Justin nodded again, Brian went on. "It happened a few more times after that. I'd blow him, and once in a while he'd jerk me off. But then he started to finger my ass, and I didn't like that. But I'd been scared before I blew him the first time as well, so I just let it go. But then one day he tried to fuck me. Barely got in before I ran out the door.

"Looking back I can understand why I did it, why I ran, but then, at 14, I was so ashamed of myself. I mean, it was only a little pain, right? I'd had worse from my old man. But I never went back. I got used to tricks rimming me, or fingering me while they blew me. I even got to like it. But I never let anyone fuck me."

Justin looked at him for a moment, a strange expression on his face, and Brian dreaded the inevitable emotional outpour that had to accompany his confession. Instead, Justin's face broke into an already well known grin.

"So we popped each other's cherries," he said. "We must be a match made in heaven. Now come on, it's time you met your _real_ boyfriend. Your fuckmobile."

And just for that, just for not saying a goddamn thing about the most important moment of his life, and the fact that he couldn't even remember it, Brian could see how he might have fallen in love with this kid.

<<<<>>>> 

Brian was impressed. Impressed with his car, which he had wanted for longer than he could remember. Impressed with his business, which was located in an old bathhouse, and had done so well that he had been able to buy a club. He was even impressed, no matter that he wouldn't admit it, in his choice of partner. If Brian Kinney had to be in a relationship, at least he had picked a hot young blond with a great cock and a greater ass to do it with.

He stopped being impressed the moment he saw Theodore Schmidt in his new business.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" he asked Justin, who was leading him to his office.

"I told you, he works for you."

"I thought you said he was my accountant!"

"No, I said you trusted him with some of your accounts. He didn't used to be your accountant?"

"Not in my fucking workplace he wasn’t! I thought you just meant he was part of my accounting department. It sure as hell looks like he’s doing a lot more than that to me!”

“Well....”

“You mean I was fool enough to leave some of my business to him? What the fuck happened to me?"

"Brian, calm down, you're going to start hyperventilating again." Justin's calm, reasonable tone did nothing to allay Brian's anger, and he glared at the blond by his side. Unfortunately, Ted chose that moment to come over and speak to them.

"Hello, Bri," he said, entirely too cheerily, in Brian's opinion, for someone that worked for him. "Just thought I'd update you on the Brown account. I'm flying out to Chicago tomorrow to close the deal, but from what they've said, they're completely happy with the advertising you've done for the new line."

" _You're_ flying out to Chicago? Why the fuck aren't I doing it?" Ted blinked at him.

"Well, you, you told me too, Brian. You said you wanted to spend more time with Justin."

"I - I said that?" Brian found it impossible to believe he'd blow off closing such a major deal just to spend time fucking a piece of ass.

"You said that you needed to catch up on the fucking you'd missed out on while Justin was in L.A., so I figured, same thing. Are you all right, Brian? You look really pale."

"Brian's not exactly feeling himself today," Justin cut in. "And he really, really needs to show me something in his office. So if we could just..."

"Oh, yes, of course," Ted said genially. "Wouldn't want to interrupt your fucking. Have fun."

Justin rushed them both past a startled Cynthia and into his office before Brian had another panic attack. Brian sank down onto the couch.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck. I don't know who I am anymore." Justin came and sat down beside him.

"You're you," he told him. "You just found out a few new things along the way."

"Like what?" Brian asked miserably, not really expecting an answer.

"Oh, how to trust an old friend. How to help people," Justin said. "You gave this job to Ted after he came out of rehab, you know." When Brian made to speak again, he hushed him.

"And," he said, a gleam coming into his eye. "You learned how hot it was to fuck someone more than once. How good it felt to fuck someone who knows everything about your body. How to hold you on the brink for hours, or make you come in seconds. Who knows just what makes you crazy. Just where to kiss, or suck, or bite."

He leant forward, and began to kiss along Brian's jaw line, down to his neck, and then bit a spot just below his Adam’s apple that instantly made his dick harden. Looking back up at him, Justin raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Wanna fuck?"

<<<<>>>> 

When they were done, Brian felt much calmer, but no less confused about what was happening in his life. First things first, he figured, and buzzed Cynthia.

"You gonna tell her?" Justin asked him.

"Don't have any choice," Brian sighed. "But I think you'd better do it."

"Me?"

"Well, you know a hell of a lot more about it than I do."

"But-" Justin began to protest, then broke off as Cynthia walked into the room. She took one look at their faces, and then asked,

"Alright, what the fuck happened this time?"

Brian smiled to himself.

"Good to know some things haven't changed."

"Huh?" Brian motioned at Justin. Justin shot him a mutinous glare, but opened his mouth anyway.

"Cynthia, Brian has a slight case of - well, of amnesia."

For a moment Cynthia blinked, looking from one face to the other.

"If you're fucking with me, I will have both your balls."

"I really should fire her for that," Brian said to Justin, without taking his eyes off the woman in front of him.

"Yeah, but you can’t survive any better without her now than you could five years ago." Brian nodded.

"You're not fucking with me, are you?"

Slowly, both men shook their heads. Cynthia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

"Well, let's get you caught up."

<<<<>>>> 

Three hours later, Justin was lying half asleep on the sofa, while Brian and Cynthia were perhaps a third the way through all the files Brian had to know everything about.

"This is bullshit."

Justin jumped at the sound of Brian's voice, and then sat up on the sofa, rubbing his eyes.

"What is?" he asked sleepily.

"All this. It'll take me the rest of the day to get caught up, maybe a week before I know enough about this world to advertise them properly."

"But you always said you could sell anything with sex," Justin protested.

"I can," Brian said shortly. "But I can't do my best work this way. Cynthia?"

"Yes?"

"Think you can handle running this place for a while?"

"I've done it before, with Ted."

"Theodore? I trusted him with this place? Jesus. Well, whatever the fuck. Sunshine and I are going away for a while. I need to get away from the Pitts if I'm ever going to sort this thing out. What?"

This last was addressed to Justin, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"You called me Sunshine."

"Did I? I guess I did. It just sort of, came into my head." Justin smiled.

"It's Debbie's nickname for me. You call me that sometimes. And you're taking me with you?"

"Would you stay here if I asked you to?" When the blond shook his head, Brian grinned. "So why'd you ask?"

"Would you normally take someone you met a few days ago away with you?"

"Don't have a choice do I? Now Cynthia? Will you please go and book us two first class tickets to.... Ibiza?" He looked at Justin questioningly, then frowned when he say the pained look on his face.

"What?"

"You told us you were going to Ibiza when you had cancer." Cynthia supplied.

"Fucking great," Brian muttered. "How about Hawaii then? Anything horrible happen there?" When Cynthia shook her head he motioned for her to leave, and then stood.

"C'mon on Sunshine. Better go home and pack."

Justin just stared at him. "You're insane," he told him. "And so totally different than I remember you being - now, or five years ago."

"Is that a bad thing?" Brian asked him. Justin grinned.

"Not necessarily."

"So lets get the fuck out of here."

<<<<>>>> 

Five hours later they were on a plane. Brian had wanted it to be sooner, but Justin had insisted on calling around their entire surrogate family to let them know what was happening.

Brian had wanted to both laugh and cry every time Justin had to say, "No, it's _not_ the cancer again. I swear." The first time he had said it he had sounded almost teary, but by the last time, when he had spoken to Emmett, he had merely sounded exasperated, which Brian had been incredibly thankful for.

He had also been amused by the sound of Justin's conversation with his mother. It sounded like Mrs. Taylor didn't quite trust him. Well, he was never going to be the perfect son-in-law.

Looking over at the blond head beside him, Brian thought that he probably was insane. He was flying to a foreign country with a guy that knew all about him, but who he knew nothing about, when he had amnesia, and should probably be surrounding himself familiar things.

But for some reason, watching his own image form under the skilful hand of the man next to him, Brian couldn't seem to care.

 

 


	2. Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawaii has a strange affect on Brian, and the rest of the gang find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter references and describes physical abuse of a child by their parent.

Brian, Justin knew, was freaking out. Freaking out big time. To a total stranger, hell to some of their closest friends, he would seem to be fine, dealing as best with having amnesia as anyone could be expected to. Justin was just waiting for the fallout to begin.

And he was grateful, oh so grateful, that despite the changes Brian had made in the past five years, despite how far he had come, Justin had (almost) always kept track of the Brian Kinney Operating Manual, that he could still read 29 year old Brian as well as he could when he was 17, grateful because otherwise there was no way either of them was going to get through this.

And it was both of them. Justin was trying hard not to let it show, but his facade had cracked a few times. When Brian had asked him to sleep on the couch. When Brian had made him tell him about the first time Justin had topped, and Justin had discovered that in effect, he'd taken Brian's virginity.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with this information, or the fact that he was currently on his way to Hawaii, _Hawaii_ of all places with the 29 year old version of his what the fuck ever boyfriend. He should count himself lucky, he supposed, that Brian hadn't become 19. There was no fucking way that Justin could have dealt with a teenaged version of his lover.

Focusing his eyes on what he was drawing, he realized that this idea must have been stirring round his subconscious for some time, because what had emerged on the paper were different versions of the Brian he knew.

Brian as a teenager, only seen in glimpses from photographs by Justin, while he had lived in Michael's room. Brian, the night they'd met, looking like the hottest thing Justin had ever seen; first in the light beneath a streetlamp, and then standing naked in his loft. Brian the first time he'd seen him after the bashing, Brian pointing a gun at him, Brian at the Rage party.

Glancing to his right, Justin wasn't surprised to find that Brian was asleep. He had to have been drawing for hours, but all he could really remember was his own feverish thoughts. He looked down at the last small sketch he had drawn. It was only half finished; he must have come back to himself in the middle of drawing it, and it seemed less detailed than the rest, as though he had remembered it from a dream.

It only showed Brian from the middle of the torso up. He was wearing dark clothes, and a white scarf around his neck. He looked terrified. Justin frowned. He couldn't remember ever having seen Brian like this, but his subconscious had obviously pegged it as an important part of their life together. Then an announcement came over the loud speaker to tell him that they would be landing shortly. He fastened his seatbelt, and turned to wake Brian, only to find the man staring at him with sleepy hazel eyes.

"We're almost there," Justin said quietly. Whenever he looked at Brian, he somehow couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at a stranger, different both to the Brian of now, and the Brian he remembered from five years back.

"You've been busy," Brian replied, nodding at the sketchbook. Justin nodded awkwardly in turn, and then tried to grab the book as Brian reached for it.

"C'mon, Sunshine," he said with a smirk. "There's no need to be embarrassed about drawing my cock. I can see how that might be an inspiration for you." He gave Justin his typical tongue in cheek look, and Justin surrendered the sketchbook with a huff. No matter what age Brian was, he was really damn irritating.

Brian's smirk faded as he looked down at what Justin had drawn.

"What are these?" he asked. Justin sighed, and began to explain each one to Brian. He carefully maneuvered around the sketch of the Rage party until Brian specifically asked about it, but Brian seemed more upset by the idea that he would point a gun at Justin. Justin explained what had happened, but he didn't think it made Brian feel any better.

He stumbled when he came to the last sketch, unsure of what to say, but Brian seemed to accept his silence, running his fingers over the picture.

"I almost remember this," he said to himself. "I was scared, so fucking scared. But then someone - you - smiled at me, and I knew everything was going to be ok. And then, and then - " He broke off, frustrated. Justin rubbed his arm soothingly, but Brian pulled back.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck, I just don't goddamn remember."

Justin just turned and looked out of the window.

"Neither do I."

Brian's hand found his and clutched it, and Justin had only been this afraid for Brian once before, when he heard about the cancer. At least by the time he heard about that, he reflected, it had been done.

<<<<>>>> 

They had arrived in the middle of the night, so all Justin saw on the drive to the hotel was an occasional cluster of lights. He wished fervently for scenery, partly to have something to do, partly because the artist in him craved the picture perfect ideal he had always had of this place, but mostly because it would have been a real reason for silence besides the awkwardness that seemed to have descended on the two of them.

This was why Justin had thought, known that the two of them fucking was a mistake. He was too involved, Brian probably felt responsible, but didn't care, and both of them had their own issues to deal with besides their non-relationship. But one fuck, and he had known, just like he had the first night, that he could never have just one fuck. He would always want more.

<<<<>>>> 

Once in their room, Justin had immediately tumbled into bed, expecting to fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. He very nearly did, already drifting off when Brian joined him.

The other man lay stiffly at his side, staring up at the ceiling despite the darkness that permeated the room. Justin's body tensed. This was too wrong, too different from the night before. There was no angry fuck to give Justin an excuse not to think about the fact that at this point, Brian wasn't likely to be open to holding him in his sleep.

He was too tired to fuck, but his mind was too full to let him sleep. Instead he lay there, clenching his eyes closed and trying to concentrate on his breathing, to get himself back to the state he had been in before Brian had gotten into bed.

Brian had shifted around beside him, making him even more conscious that he wasn't alone, and defying his efforts to forget. Then he felt an arm snake around his waist, and pull him against warm skin.

Too tired to puzzle out the whys and wherefores, Justin snuggled back even further against the warm body beside him, and fell asleep.

<<<<>>>> 

Despite having slept on the plane, Brian was almost as tired as Justin, but found it even more impossible to sleep than the man beside him.

The pictures Justin had shown him had thrown him a little; although logically he knew that the things Justin had described to him had happened to him, he had found it hard to believe until he saw those sketches. Seeing himself doing them had been like seeing a stranger wearing his body, which was not a little disconcerting.

And some of the things he had done just didn't seem right. Justin had obviously been concerned about telling him how he had left him, but that mattered little to Brian. Whatever his 34 year old self might have felt about it, he didn't have those feelings.

Unfortunately, he did seem to have some feelings that certainly didn't belong to him. Like the wave of protectiveness he had felt when Justin had told him about the Pink Posse. Brian had snorted at the name, but at the same time felt fearful and angry that Justin had put himself in that position. That was not supposed to happen. Brian was supposed to laugh at the idea, and let other people make their own mistakes, thank you very much. And from the sound of things, that's exactly what he had done (basically). He just hadn't been happy at all to do it.

And as for the sketch he could almost remember - that just plain scared the shit out of him. He could never remember feeling such an intense whirlwind of emotions - fear, but also love, hope, joy. If that was how it felt to care for someone, Brian understood even more why he fought against it - but at the same time thought that the feeling was addictive, like the heady rush he got from following a stranger he barely knew, to somewhere he didn't know at all, just to fuck. Half the pleasure was not knowing if you were going to fuck, or get fucked, in the most final way possible.

Yes, if that was what it always felt like with Justin, Brian mused, he could see how the kid had managed to worm his way into his heart. Although from Justin's comment, his almost memory came from the night of the Prom. It was ironic, Brian supposed, the only thing he remembered was the one thing Justin didn't.

And here he was, for the second time in a row, lying wrapped around the blonde’s small body. Brian didn't even want to think about how that had happened. Of course, a lot of things had happened recently which he hadn't wanted.

He had slid carefully into bed, not wanting to wake Justin, who appeared already to be asleep. At first he had lain on his back, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask Cynthia for separate beds. Probably a good thing, he had decided in the end, because Justin might have kicked some shit up about it in the morning. For now, he just wanted to sleep.

His mind hadn't co-operated. Instead he'd spent long minutes shifting from side, trying to feel comfortable, but no matter what he did, two seconds later he would be moving again. Until he had ended up on his side facing Justin, and realized what the problem was.

"Fuck." He swore quietly under his breath, but never the less reached out to loop his arm around Justin's waist, and pull him against his chest. Immediately, he had felt the tension in the body beside him, and realized that perhaps sleep hadn’t come any more easily to Justin than it had to him. But in no time at all Justin had burrowed closer into Brian, and then relaxed completely, until Brian could tell from his breathing that he was asleep.

Lucky bastard.

Despite the fact that he no longer needed to shift restlessly about, sleep still eluded Brian. He felt too uncomfortable with how comfortable he felt at holding Justin. He was sure that there was something wrong with that statement, but he was too tired to figure it out.

Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep only to remember Justin speaking to him at the hospital, just the day before.

_*"Neither of us like hospitals very much anymore," Justin explained. "I guess your body remembers, even if you don't."*_

His body wanted Justin. His heart wanted Justin, if the painful tugs of emotion he experienced when thinking about him were anything to go by. The only thing that didn't want Justin was his mind, and the boy had obviously been able to change that. The only question was if Brian would let him do it again.

'Anyone I was with for that long would have to be a great fuck,' Brian rationalized. 'We've only fucked twice, there's no way that I could know for sure if he's good enough. No way to know for sure if I could handle it.'

 _'Except that you already did,'_ another part of his mind said, but he pushed it away.

'Just give it a trial run,' Brian thought to himself. 'If it works out, it works out. If not, he can just fuck off.' Ignoring the thoughts that he was crazy for even contemplating having a relationship, and that it seemed unlikely that Justin would go away if he told him to, Brian finally managed to go to sleep.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

"Justin."

"Fuck off."

"Justin." A finger poked at Justin's side, and a hand shook his shoulder. Deciding that poking fingers a) hurt, and b) were extremely rude, he shook off both the hand and the finger and rolled over, burrowing deep into the covers.

"Justin."

The voice was lower this time, coaxing and seductive. The finger returned, but instead of poking him it trailed down his side to his morning erection, where it was joined by more fingers. Justin decided that fingers that made him feel like _that_ were not at all rude, and he thrust gently into the channel they created, moaning his approval.

The fingers caressed his dick for just a few more moments before drawing away. Grumbling his discontent, Justin turned to glare at the fingers, but was confronted instead with dancing hazel eyes and a mischievous grin.

"Rise and shine, Sunshine. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Deciding that if fingers were attached to certain irritating assholes, (and Justin was certain that there was a joke in there, but he was too annoyed to share it with Brian) they were rude by default, he rolled back over.

"I'll let you blow me in the shower." Deciding that this was absolutely the last time he would change his mind, Justin sat up, but continued to glare at Brian.

"I should blow you? Who is the cock tease here?"

"I wouldn't know, you tell me," Brian said cheerfully. Justin winced at the reminder of Brian's problem, but the other man didn't seem to notice. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll fuck you in the shower _after_ you blow me."

When it came to sex, Justin was easy. When it came to Brian, Justin was really, really, _really_ easy.  <<<<>>>>

Two hours later, both men emerged from their bedroom. Justin couldn't keep his hands off of Brian, and although Brian wasn't exactly reciprocating, he wasn't complaining either.

But then the elevator at the end of the hallway opened, and two women got out. They passed Justin and Brian without comment, but Brian pushed Justin a little away from him.

"We're not on Liberty Avenue now, Sunshine," he told him. "We won't get lynched here, but the locals might not be too friendly either. So, d'you think you can keep your dick to yourself until tonight?"

"I suppose I can try." Justin grinned at him, and leaned up for another kiss, but at the last second Brian turned to grab the elevator door before it closed.

"C'mon, we need to hurry up if you want to go swimming with dolphins."

"Dolphins," Justin said flatly.

"I figured you'd like that. So cast off the grey face, Sunshine. Today is gonna be a day to remember."

Justin smiled dutifully, but the smile turned to a frown as soon as Brian turned his back. Swimming with dolphins? That didn't sound like Brian at any age. And it might have been his imagination, but it seemed as though Brian had been relieved for the excuse not to kiss him.

The Brian Kinney he knew would have spent all day in bed fucking in a place like this, only emerging to fuck on the beach instead. It was possible, Justin supposed, that Brian simply wanted to keep busy. Or that he was tired. It was possible. It just wasn't very likely.

Puzzling over what to do, Justin looked up and caught Brian watching him.

"Everything OK?"

"What could be wrong?" Justin smiled again, but resolved that he was going to watch Brian very, very closely.

<<<<>>>> 

Eight hours later, Justin was exhausted. Throughout the day, Brian had dragged him from pillar to post, from excursion to adventure, from one amazing sight to another. Under different circumstances - and if the whole thing had been spread of a week instead of a day - Justin would have enjoyed himself.

But of course this was Brian Kinney, and amnesia patient or not, Justin found it hard to believe Brian had suddenly started preferring sightseeing to cock. Justin found it hard to believe Brian would prefer anything to cock. But he hadn't even tried to fuck Justin in the restroom of the cafe where they had eaten lunch - after Justin had spent the entire meal trailing his foot up and down Brian's leg.

They had just eaten another delicious meal in the hotel restaurant, and Brian had been the perfect dinner partner, and a brilliant conversationalist. They had occasionally hit a snag when Brian began to tell Justin something he already knew, or Justin reminisced about something Brian should have remembered, but his lover had smoothed carefully over each incident.

And all Justin wanted Brian to do was go out, drink too much, pick up half a dozen tricks and pass out in bed after fucking him into the mattress. Considering that this scenario had happened on a regular basis throughout his relationship with Brian (except after the cancer, but they never mentioned that) Justin didn't feel that this was too much to ask. If he was doing that, at least Justin would know Brian was dealing with the situation, working towards resolving the emotional and mental trauma. Instead, Justin knew jack shit.

Exhausted from the long day and the lack of sleep, Justin sat heavily down on the bed, and tried to puzzle out what was going on.

Brian had amnesia. Brian was 29 again, which meant that a) Brian should be freaking out, and b) Brian should be abusing every legal and illegal substance he could find and fucking every hot man in sight. Instead, Brian seemed to be trying to play Happy Heteros. Brian, who was currently half way to killing his best friend for doing the same thing. No matter which way Justin looked at it, the math just didn't add up.

As his mind continued going round in circles, his head began to ache. Closing his eyes, Justin reached up to massage his temples, but this did nothing to alleviate the pressure. Then strong hands covered his own, stroking down his face and pushing through his hair. Justin moaned slightly, all thoughts of his headache disappearing at the touch of his lover.

Opening his eyes, he hooked a hand around Brian's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. But instead of the passion Justin was looking for, the kiss was soft and slow, and over far too soon.

Justin tried to pull Brian down for another kiss, but Brian pulled back.

"I thought you were tired," he said gently.

Justin snorted.

"Since when did that stop you?" He looked up at Brian. "Brian - what the fuck are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"Look, I don't expect you to be ok. You have fucking amnesia. But there's you not being ok, and then there's just plain fucking weird. I'd honestly prefer a shaking shivering mess to the way you've behaved today."

"Thanks," said Brian, trying to play it off. But Justin didn't let him.

"I wouldn't be half as worried as I am now," Justin told him seriously. "Look, I don't expect that just because this thing happened, you'll suddenly be ok with talking about your feelings. In fact, I'd expect you to be worse than you were before. But seriously, what are you doing? Playing the happily married couple? That's not us, Brian, it's not you."

The cheerful facade Brian had maintained all day just slipped away, and the man seemed to sag down. Moving over, Justin pulled him down on the bed beside. "C'mon, you can tell me."

Brian groaned. "That's the problem," he said. Justin just looked confused. "How the fuck do I know that I can tell you? From where I am, the only person I'd be likely to talk to is Michael, if that. But from what I can tell, we're barely even friends anymore. I always figured that one day he'd give up on the whole hero worship, but at the hospital he practically ignored me. I didn't think I'd be able to keep him away."

"But that still doesn't explain why you've been trying to be the perfect boyfriend all day," Justin pointed out. "Surely that just means that you _should_ be fucking your brains out, instead of playing these games." When Brian didn't reply, just looked down at his hands, Justin got up and began to pace.

"I'm trying, Brian, I really am," he said through gritted teeth, "but I'm almost as confused and lost as you are. I don't expect you to bare your soul, but I can't help you if you won't goddamn let me."

Finally, Brian looked up.

"Why the fuck should I want your help," he said angrily. "Who the fuck are you? Some trick I picked up who wouldn't go away?" Justin flinched, but Brian was relentless. "Some guy that twisted me into someone I don't know, don't understand? Some guy that I don't want to be, but I have to remember? Well, fuck you."

He made to walk away, but Justin grabbed his arm. Brian shook him off and glared at him, but didn't try to move.

"You may be stronger than me," Justin hissed, "but if you think you're getting out of that door before I'm through you've got another thing coming."

Looking at the angry blond in front of him, Brian found himself believing him without a single doubt. Slowly, he nodded, and sat down on the bed.

Justin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed his body to relax. Watching him, Brian was impressed with how easily Justin was able to calm himself down. Then the other man's eyes snapped open, and Brian realized that all the anger Justin had was still there, blazing in the blue depths. For the first time since he had woken up, Brian allowed himself to feel a little afraid.

"Now let me get this straight," Justin began. Brian snorted at his choice of words, but shut up when Justin glared at him. "You're angry with me because you think I turned you into a 'Stepford Fag', but you're so desperate to remember who you were, you're trying to be one anyway."

Thinking it through, Brian realized that it did sound as though he had been doing that. But surely even he wasn't _that_ fucked up.

"Something like that," he hedged.

Then he stared at Justin as the blond burst into peals of laughter. Brian Kinney wasn't often at a loss for words, but he'd found himself in that situation far too often for his liking in the past few days. By now, he was almost used to it.

"I'm sorry," Justin said finally, still spluttering with laughter, "but you've managed to be so - so - you. Only Brian Kinney could do something so illogical, and so him, and still make it so completely _not_ him!"

"Not - me?" Brian said slowly.

"No," Justin told him. "I honestly expected you to deal with this the way you deal with everything else. Sucking, fucking, rimming and ramming. Drinking like a fish. Having fun with alphabet soup. Any of this sound familiar?"

Brian nodded.

"And I don't just expect that because that's who you were," Justin continued. "I expect that because it's still a part of who you are. We are _not_ Stepford fags. We're together because we want to be, not because we have to be. And we do want to be." His face darkened slightly. "Or we did. Now?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure if I have the energy to make you fall for me all over again. I guess I'll just hang around until you remember, or figure out what you want to do. Then - then we'll do whatever."

"I don't think it can be like last time," Brian said. "I mean, you're not the same guy - although you still look about 12."

Justin stuck his tongue out at Brian.

"Great way to prove me wrong, Sunshine," Brian said sarcastically, but carried on. "I'm not the same either. Quite aside from this - thing - I'm dealing with, I have different responsibilities, a different life, different-" Brian swallowed "-feelings."

Justin just looked at him for a second, then sat down heavily on the bed next to him.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Justin asked him hesitantly. "That you have different feelings?"

Brian looked away.

"Why do you think _I_ thought we were like - like that?" He smiled, but it came out twisted, broken. "I don't know where they come from, but I'll tell you this Sunshine, the guy you remember, the guy I'm gonna be one day, he's got a _lot_ of feelings for you. He's in love with you. I mean, you probably already knew that, but I didn't think I could love anybody. Not like this. But this guy does. Did. Which I guess means I will too. I don't think you'll have to try so hard this time."

He looked hesitantly at Justin.

"You're fucking terrified, aren't you?"

"Scariest moment of my life."

"But you still did it."

"Wanna tell me why?"

"Cause you might have taught me most of what I know about sex, but even you will admit that I'm a natural at giving head."

"And?"

"And you have yet to experience this incredible phenomenon. Take your pants off."

"I just a love a guy who's in charge in the bedroom."

"The whole Stepford Fag thing got real old, real fast."

"Good point. Get too it, Sunshine."

<<<<>>>> 

"No. No no no no NOOO!"

"Jesus Christ!"

"Brian, please! Brian, make him stop, please make him stop, please, please, please."

"Justin? What the fuck?"

"No, don't go, please don't go, stay, I need you, please. Make him stop."

"Oh fuck. Ok, Justin? Justin, can you hear me? Look, it's alright, I'm here now, I'm right here."

Brian cradled Justin to his chest, utterly confused. One moment he had been sleeping, the next he had woken to a screaming Justin. The boy was trembling in his arms, but he had stopped screaming.

Brian just held on and rocked him, having vague memories of Claire doing this for him the first few times Jack had hit him. He didn't know what else to do.

Finally Justin calmed down. Brian moved to lay him back down, but then Justin suddenly looked up at him with wet blue eyes.

"What happened?"

"What happened? What the fuck happened?" Brian exploded. "You started yelling out shit in your sleep about me fucking leaving you or something, that's what happened. You scared the shit out of me." Throughout his tirade, Justin had curled up smaller and smaller until he was just a tiny ball on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "That hasn't happened in a long time. Throw back to the prom. I get - nightmares, sometimes."

"Oh," said Brian, deflating. With just those few words, all the anger and confusion he had felt just melted away, replaced by that goddamn protectiveness again. "Just, give me some warning, or something, next time," he said gruffly.

Justin nodded, and turned over to go back to sleep. But Brian pulled him close again, and Justin snuggled into his chest.

"Thank you," he breathed into Brian's skin. They lay awake for a long while.

<<<<>>>> 

"Aah."

Waking to a hot, wet mouth wrapped around his rock hard cock, Brian decided he infinitely preferred this kind of wake up call. It wasn't long before he was shooting into Justin's mouth, and then the blond appeared over him, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

He smiled back up at him, but felt a little unsure. He still didn't understand how he and Justin worked. He was now sure that they weren't the hetero fantasy he'd always dreaded, and for that he was grateful. He just still didn't know how the hell he'd ended up in _any_ kind of relationship.

But he was sure about what he needed to do now, however much he wished he could stay tucked away somewhere where no one could find him. He got up, and made a few calls to the main desk, then hung up, satisfied.

"It's time to go home," he told him. Justin looked at him carefully.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Brian sighed.

"If I don't go back soon, I won't go back at all. I have to get back to my life."

Justin smiled at him. "Feel like giving the place a farewell fuck?"

"Our car leaves in half an hour."

"And?"

"Just thought I'd mention it.

<<<<>>>> 

The plane ride back had been uneventful, although Brian had taken the time to introduce Justin to the Mile High Club.

"Haven't you done this before?" Incredulous.

"Not with you." Grinning.

They had finally gotten back to the loft, and fallen asleep in a tangled heap after Brian fucked Justin into the mattress. The next day, Brian was going to start on a mission to reclaim his life.

Justin thought that they should start by seeing Gus.

"I'm not sure that that's the best place to start," Brian said reluctantly. "Maybe Ted or Emmett..." He trailed off weakly.

"But you already know Ted and Emmett," Justin protested. "Seeing Gus might bring back some memories."

"I just don't think...." Brian broke off again as Justin began to kiss down his chest. He tried again. "I..." Brian's voice gave out completely as Justin's head disappeared into his lap.

<<<<>>>> 

Justin had to explain to Brian on the way there that Mel and Lindsay had broken up, so he would have to see Mel in order to see his son.

"Why is Gus with Smelly Melly?" Brian asked curiously. Surely if the Munchers had split, Gus would be with Lindsay.

"She just looks after Gus while Linds is at work," Justin explained as he knocked on the door. A disgruntled looking Melanie opened it, holding a crying Jenny.

"Hi Justin," she said with a strained smile. Then she saw Brian and the smile became a frown. "Asshole," she greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to see...Gus," Brian told her hesitantly.

"No," Melanie said forcefully. "If you want to see Gus, you can do it when he's with Lindsay. You're not taking up my time with him."

"I told you this was a bad idea." Brian smirked at Justin, but it looked forced. "So we can just - " Justin grabbed his arm as he turned to leave, and spun him around.

"I know that your time with Gus is important," Justin smiled tightly at Melanie. "But it's also really is important that Brian see Gus right now." Melanie hesitated, but then the sound of breaking crockery came from inside the house.

"Gus, honey, don't move," Melanie called out behind her, then turned back to the two men on her doorstep. "I guess you'd better come in," she sighed, and hurried into the house.

Once inside, Brian hesitated. The two of them just stood there listening to the sounds of Melanie scolding Gus, and sweeping up shards of china. Brian opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

Justin grinned at him. "Scared?" he teased. Brian glared at him, but his grin didn't fade. Brian decided to ignore him and walked into the kitchen to find Mel emptying a dustpan into the trash. Justin followed.

Mel turned as they came in. "I sent him to his room," she said, and then called after Brian as he made to go upstairs. "Wait, I'll come with you." Brian didn't hesitate, but continued on his way to Gus's room. Justin caught Melanie's arm as she tried to go after him. She stopped, but turned to confront him.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "First I get a cryptic phone call saying that the two of you are going to Hawaii, of all places, and then he turns up here a few days later and wants to see Gus. He's the father of my son; if something's going on, I deserve to know."

Justin rounded on her. "You deserve to know? You never cared before. All you want is something to give you a shot at bringing down Brian Kinney. You deserve to know? You damn well don't, but as we can't exactly keep it to ourselves, I'll tell you. He's got amnesia."

Melanie stared at him in shock.

"The last thing he remembers is taking me home that first night," Justin went on. "So right now, he's upstairs meeting his son for the first fucking time."

<<<<>>>> 

Brian moved slowly up the stairs, ignoring the sounds coming from behind him. He knew Justin could hold his own, and was even grateful to him for dealing with Mel, but at that moment, Melanie was the last person on his mind.

The closer he came to the door of the spare room, which he assumed now belonged to Gus, the harder it became to move. He stopped dead still in front of the door. He could not go through it and see his son. His son who, in his mind, shouldn't even be born yet.

He was about to leave when the door opened and a small dark head poked out, and looked up at him with large brown eyes. "Daddeeeee," Gus squealed, and launched himself into Brian's arms.

Brian held him awkwardly as Gus began to chatter in his ear. He suddenly flashed back to another scene involving Gus, set in a sterile hospital room. Lindsay, tired and disheveled but happy, lying in a hospital bed in front of him, Mel glaring and watchful, Michael and Justin looking on from the background, and in his arms a tiny baby, a tiny piece of him.

"Daddy? Daddy?" Brian was jolted back to the present. He looked at the child - his son - in his arms and crushed him to his chest, hardly daring to believe that he was real.

For a moment all was quiet in the room, then a small voice emerged from Brian's arms. "Daddy? Daddy, I can't breathe." Brian laughed, and loosened his grip.

<<<<>>>> 

Jack. Jack, your father, at the door, and Gus in the loft. Can't let Jack in. Doesn't matter, goes where he wants. Jack, Jack and Gus, pushing Jack away when he comes at you. Jack and Gus and Lindsay.

And a phone call while wet, hot mouths crawl over your chest like slugs. A bowling ball disappearing into the fog. Bowling, with Mikey, hugging, running, announcing the occasion at a house full of people you don't know and don't want to know.

Jack. Jack and Gus. Jack in the dark, grinning down at you. Pain, more pain than you ever expected, ever imagined. In pain, thrashing, you have to get away but you can't, he's too strong, holds you in place to meet every blow.

NO NO NO NO

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Brian woke screaming to find Justin staring at him, looking at him with fear in his eyes. He stumbled out of bed, made for the kitchen, poured himself a glass of Jim Beam. He threw it down his throat, then smashed the glass to the floor.

Justin flinched at the noise, but made no sound, just tugged trainers onto his feet and cleared up the glass while Brian paced on the other side of the room. When the place was totally quiet he glanced up to find Justin staring at him with perfect equanimity.

If Justin had been awkward, or tried to force him to talk, Brian would have known what to do, could have vented his anger and fear on him. Instead, he turned away from Justin's unpitying stare. He braced his arms on the back of the sofa, and leant against it, then started when cool arms slipped around his waist.

"Nightmare?" Justin whispered against the back of his neck, as though scared to break the silence that had fallen over them. Brian nodded just once, and then followed when Justin tugged on his arm.

He came back to bed, and wrapped himself around Justin without hesitation. For perhaps the first time in years, his thoughts weren't of sex. Instead he sought comfort from someone more than willing to give it. As he drifted off, he felt almost grateful for the amnesia. He would never have been able to trust Justin this way if he didn't know he already had.

<<<<>>>> 

Brian felt suffocated. Since the nightmare following his visit to Gus he had refused to meet anyone else, to even leave the loft. Justin had begged, coaxed, cajoled and threatened to no avail.

Brian had spent the days alternately watching TV to catch up on the world of today, and surfing the internet for chat rooms and porn sites. Justin had had enough.

"You're coming to Sunday dinner," he told Brian on Saturday night.

Brian snorted.

"Whatever you say, Sunshine," he sneered.

"Fine," Justin said. "I hope that you and your hand are very happy together."

Brian snorted again. "As if you'd say no," he said derisively. Justin shrugged and turned back to the TV.

Later in bed, Brian was puzzled. Unwilling to go out, he relied entirely on Justin for sexual relief. As Justin couldn't keep his hands off him, this wasn't normally a problem, but tonight he had undressed, climbed into bed and rolled over to go to sleep without so much as a glance in Brian's direction.

Brian was non-plussed. He had never thought the kid was _serious_ with his ban on fucking. Well, he'd show him. It was time to bring out the big guns.

He moved over and began to kiss Justin. Justin pushed him away. Determined, he began to kiss down the boy's neck. Justin just lay there, passive. Brian kept moving down, and realized that Justin's dick was taking an interest, even if he wasn't. But as soon as he reached for the prominent erection, he was pushed back again.

"You're not serious," he exclaimed, looking at Justin incredulously. Justin turned his back.

"But, but," Brian spluttered. He wasn't used to people saying no to him, especially when it came to sex. "Fine," he said, thinking quickly. He could come up with some excuse not to be there tomorrow. "I'll go to Debbie's tomorrow. Can we fuck now?"

Justin turned his head.

"No," he said succinctly, and turned back.

"No!" Brian yelled. "Why the fuck not?" Justin sighed, and rolled over to face his lover.

"Because I know you," he explained patiently. "You'll fuck me now, and then find some reason not to come. You're not fucking me until we cross the threshold of Debbie's door tomorrow."

<<<<>>>> 

"Alright, keeps your balls on," Debbie shouted, trotting from the kitchen to the door. She was in the middle of making Sunday dinner, and she wasn't expecting any of the family just yet, but there was still someone giving her door a good pounding.

"Everyone's in a fucking rush," she mumbled to herself when the knocking on the door didn't abate. When she opened the door, she was too surprised to do more than stare.

"Hi, Deb," Justin shouted out as Brian yanked him through the door, past Debbie, and up the stairs.

"Bye, Deb," Brian yelled down as he shoved Justin into the bathroom and followed him in, banging the door behind him. Debbie stared up the stairs for a moment, then went back to the kitchen to finish her lasagna. She hummed to herself as she layered meat, pasta and sauce, ignoring the loud noises coming from upstairs.

Nothing those two did would surprise her anymore.

<<<<>>>> 

The whole family was sitting around Debbie's table. Michael and Mel kept shooting Brian strange looks, but the rest of the group just dismissed it as being the now constant tension between the two best friends, and Brian and Mel's usual animosity.

Debbie had to admit that she was curious about Brian. First she got a call from Justin saying that they were going to Hawaii - and Lord, but hadn't that given her a turn - then they'd turned up on her doorstep more than half an hour early, a thing unheard of for Brian, and fucked the shit out of each other in her bathroom.

Justin had come down looking sheepish, muttering something about having to get him here _somehow_ , and then helped Debbie with dinner. Brian had remained quiet ever since, and was now staring intently at his almost full plate of food.

Never one to keep her mouth shout, Debbie opened it. "What the fuck is up with you?" she asked, motioning at Brian with her fork. Brian just looked at her silently, staring her right in face, but she saw Melanie and Michael both look away. She rounded on them.

"There is obviously something going on here," she stated, "and in this family, we don't keep secrets. So one of you will kindly tell me what all this is about." Mel didn't seem at all perturbed, but Michael quailed under his mother's gaze.

"Brian....Brian," he stuttered, and then clamped his lips shut.

"Brian what?" she prompted, but he just shook his head.

"Just leave it alone, Ma," he said.

"Leave what alone?" she shrieked.

"Brian," the man himself interrupted, "had a little accident and isn't feeling quite himself. And he'd appreciate it if you all kept your noses out of his business."

Debbie didn't seem to get it. "An accident? Baby, are you OK? What happened?" The concern was evident in her voice.

"Brian, are you alright?" Lindsay chimed in.

"For fuck's sake, will you all just-" Brian began, but stopped when a small voice piped up.

"Daddy sick?" Brian took a deep breath and reeled his temper in. He went over to the small boy and picked him up, cradling him to his chest.

"No, Gus," he said soothingly. "Daddy isn't sick. I'm just having a little bit of trouble right now. Do you know how old you are, Gus?"

"I'm five whole years old," he announced, holding up a splayed hand with all five fingers proudly on show.

"Well, the night you were born, Gus, that was five years ago then, yes?" Brian was speaking to Gus, but everyone in the room was hanging on his words. Justin had his head buried in his hands. He felt like he was watching a train wreck.

"Yes," Gus nodded.

"Well, about a week ago, I woke up and the last thing I remember was the night you were born."

"But, Daddy, that was so long ago I don't even remember it."

Brian laughed.

"I know Gus, but I can't remember anything after that."

"That's silly," Gus told him.

"I suppose it is," Brian agreed. Then he put Gus down and held out his hand to Justin. "It's time to go," he said simply. Justin nodded and took his hand. The whole room was watching them in shock. They almost made it to the door before Debbie called them back.

"Now just a minute," she said, hands on hips. "You don't get to drop something like that on us and just leave," she spluttered.

"If I had my way none of you would know about this," Brian said angrily. "But since you made sure that I didn't have a choice, maybe you'll actually respect my wishes and leave me alone to deal with this."

"Leave you alone!" Debbie screeched. "This is when you need your family around you the most. Of course we won't fucking leave you alone."

"That's what I thought," Brian said quietly. He turned and left. Justin followed.

<<<<>>>> 

Bright lights. Thumping music. Bare sweaty flesh, the smell of sex in the air. Babylon. His kingdom. Legally as well as nominally now if Justin was telling the truth.

Justin. His nursemaid. Not that he didn't appreciate what the kid had done. But he was a man and he could take care of himself. Right now though he was looking for someone else to take care of him. One part of him in particular.

Something quick and fun, no emotion involved, to help him forget that fucking awful scene at Deb's. Scanning the crowd his gaze lit on a tall muscled guy, with a shaved head and bare chest. Someone he could dominate. He would definitely do for tonight's first trick.

He glanced over at Justin who was already dancing closely with a small dark trick, the white and brown of their skins contrasting sharply with each other. They were beautiful together. Brian grinned. Variety was the spice of life. He pushed off from the bar and moved towards his trick.

The guy was responsive, seeming pleased with Brian's attention. Everything was as it should be. He leaned in and kissed the trick, slamming their mouths together. By the time he was done, the guy was more than agreeable to a trip to the back room. He followed Brian willingly.

Just as Brian pushed through the chain curtain he caught sight of Justin staring at him, a strange expression on his face. For a moment Brian considered going after him, but then the trick pressed back against him and the thought was gone. He was amazed that the idea had even crossed his mind. He didn't go after anyone.

<<<<>>>> 

Brian came out of the backroom and searched the crowd for Justin. The trick had been a good fuck, but Brian hadn't been able to keep his mind off the look Justin had given him.

He didn't understand. Justin had told him they weren't monogamous. He had been getting pretty friendly with a trick himself. But when he'd seen Brian take that guy to the back room he had looked - betrayed.

Although he couldn't see Justin he spotted Emmett and Ted by the bar. Could have been worse he figured. Could have been Mikey and what's his name, the professor - Ben. That would have been awkward, especially as he seemed to remember fucking Ben a few years ago. He wondered if Mikey knew.

Memories rose to the surface if his mind. A giggle. His own voice, "twat." Too familiar lips against his. "Our boyfriends are cheating on us." But they were weak, and he shook them off.

Still not seeing Justin he gritted his teeth and headed over to Ted and Emmett. "Still propping up the bar, boys?" he asked. "Some things never change."

"Brian." Ted nodded. In contrast with their meeting at Kinnetic he looked worried, as if he had remembered his rightful place in Brian's life. At the bottom of the heap. He was probably scared for his job, Brian thought. He approved.

Not liking the curious way Emmett was looking at him, and already bored with Ted's fear, Brian wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Have you seen Justin?"

The look on Emmett’s face changed to one of pity. "He left already," he told him gently.

"Why?" Brian questioned, confused.

"Well, when he saw you with that trick..." Ted put in.

"He said we weren't monogamous," Brian protested angrily. " _He_ had a trick." This was a large part of the reason he didn't believe in relationships. All the bullshit: lying to placate your partner, compromising yourself for them.

"No, that wasn't the problem," Emmett told him, then stopped, looking thoughtful.

"Well?" Brian said impatiently.

"Your relationship," Emmett said hesitantly, "has always been a little...." He looked at Ted for help.

"Fucked up?" Ted supplied.

"Difficult," Emmett said firmly. "But you always had some rules. Like no kissing anyone else on the mouth."

Brian stared at him.

"At first I think you just did it to make Justin feel more secure. But when you got back together it became something really - special - to the two of you. You really hurt him when you kissed that trick."

"But I didn't know," Brian yelled, frustrated. Emmett met his gaze coolly.

"I think that's the problem," he said.

Brian felt like screaming. This wasn't him. He wasn't supposed to be in a relationship. No one was allowed to hold him hostage to their emotions. He turned back to the dance floor.

"Aren't you going after him?" Emmett called out.

"I don't go after anyone," Brian shouted back, and was swallowed up in the crowd.

He spotted another potential trick and was about to go over when his mind was hit with another deluge of memories.

"Your partner made partner," he said to the empty loft. So eager, like a puppy with no one to pet him. Justin gone, and an empty loft. A bunch of red roses left to rot until the loft became empty forever. Darkness, despair, empty home, empty life. Bright, busy club around him, a few people looking at him with concern.

Damn. He knew there was a reason he hadn't wanted to come out. In the mean time, he figured he should get back to the loft.

<<<<>>>> 

"What are you doing here?" Justin asked dully as Brian slid the door shut.

"I was tired," Brian told him. Justin looked at him disbelievingly.

"It's barely even midnight."

"Emmett told me why you left." Brian gave up all attempts at pretence.

"And?" Justin wanted to know. "Why are you here?"

"I - I don't know," Brian admitted. "I just -"

"You just what?"

"I hate this," Brian yelled. "This relationship crap. It isn't honest, it's bullshit, and you seem to think that making some big gesture, storming out of the club, is going to make me come after you. It's just more emotional bullshit."

"I didn’t storm out," Justin stated firmly. "I left quietly while you were occupied so I could deal with it on my own. I never expected you to come after me."

Brian deflated somewhat and cast around for something to say. He knew that if Emmett hadn't told him what had happened, hell if his mind hadn't decided to chuck a few more memories his way, he wouldn't have come. He knew that Justin knew that too.

"I..." he tried. He was not going to apologize. He had broken enough of his rules for this kid. "I..."

Justin exploded.

"You what?" he shouted. "You're sorry? No, of course not, because Brian Kinney doesn't do sorry. Well you do for me, just like I told you before. You'd never say it, But you'd have done anything for me. And now you're here, you sleep with me, fuck me, rely on me for nearly goddamn everything.

"But I'm not 17 anymore, Brian. I need more than that. I love you, but I'm so scared that I'm never gonna get you back, the Brian I know now. I'm fucking terrified, but I can't show it, because it's no one else's business, and I can't fucking fall apart in front of you because you need me.

"So I put with everything, all the bullshit you throw at me, trying to push through all your walls again, trying to support you. But I'm so fucking scared, and so tired. I just can't fucking take it anymore."

By the end of his tirade Justin's face was covered in tears, but he didn't seem to notice. Brian did, and suddenly another, younger, version of Justin flashed in front of his eyes, the face as tear stained as the one in front of him. Feeling slightly guilty, he reached for Justin, but Justin knocked his hand away.

"Fuck you," he yelled. "Just...fuck you." He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but nothing came out of his mouth. Instead he grabbed his messenger bag and jacket and stormed out of the loft. Brian watched him go.

"Huh."

<<<<>>>> 

Brian lay in bed trying to sleep. He had stayed up for a few hours after Justin left, attempting to find something to occupy his mind. Nothing had worked. The thought of going out again didn't appeal. He didn't think he could survive another flashback for one thing. So he had gone to bed.

Now he was tossing restlessly from side to side. He was no closer to sleep than he had been an hour ago. Eventually he gave up and climbed out of bed to grab a bottle of whiskey. Forgoing a glass he drank straight from the bottle.

A memory of the morning he had woken on the floor surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol gave him pause for a moment, but he shrugged it off. Maybe he'd wake up with his memory back. Or the past couple of weeks gone; give him a chance to do it right. He took another shot.

<<<<>>>> 

Hiding. You're hiding in the dark, curled up under the duvet. It's not really safe, but it makes you feel better. Then you hear a creak on the stairs. Fear. He's been drinking. Will he come in here, take it out on you? The door opens.

"Sonny Boy." He's here. You can't escape now. He's almost at the bed; he pulls off the cover; you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You ruined my life, you know that, Sonny Boy?" he slurs. "You fucking brat. Gonna make you pay." He makes you pay. It hurts, hurts so bad. You should be used to it by now, but it always hurts more than you think.

You scream.

"Brian!" A voice yelled his name. He felt confused and disoriented. Warm arms encircle him and he burrowed into them without thinking.

"Jesus, Brian, you're shaking." Justin? Brian looked up into bright blue eyes.

"I thought you left," he mumbled. Justin smiled.

"But I always come back," he told him. "Brian, what happened?"

"Huh?"

"You were screaming, Brian. Don't you remember?" Brian shook his head, and released his hold on Justin.

"Probably a good thing," Justin admitted, getting up. "C'mon, I made breakfast." Brian hesitated, then called after Justin. Justin turned.

"Um," Brian said. "It's just, you don't need to be scared, OK. I'm still here, and I'm staying here." Justin grinned. "I know," he told Brian. "I've always known. I'm onto you, remember?"

Brian lifted an eyebrow. Justin smirked.

<<<<>>>> 

He still felt uncomfortable going outside. Quite apart from the random flashes of often disturbing memories that seemed to be part and parcel of most of his visits to the real world, it was all too likely that he would meet someone he was supposed to know, or had known before but was now completely different.

Then he would have to either bluff his way through a very awkward conversation, or explain. He couldn't explain, didn't want their looks of sympathy, or in some cases even triumph, that the great Brian Kinney had been brought down a peg or two.

He knew enough now that he went to work, a challenge he refused not to face. He had always taken great pride in his work, and he wasn't about to stop now. But he still felt uncomfortable, jumpy and twitchy when outside the loft, as if waiting for something to happen.

Too often it did, his own mind playing the principle betrayer with sudden flashes which would leave him confused, and bring up emotions which he didn't understand.

Justin had tried to tell him about how he'd felt after the bashing, but this made Brian feel worse, as though he were a victim of something. He still hated that idea.

So he and Justin spent a lot of time together at the loft. They hadn't had a big argument since Justin's blow up, but Brian had learnt to read when Justin became too tired or stressed out, and tried to back off, or help.

It was disconcerting to find himself tiptoeing around the loft, or absent mindedly massaging Justin's hand or shoulders. He wasn’t used to compromising his own space for someone else, and he certainly hadn't expected to be happy to do it.

He had also learnt a lot about Justin's life in the past week. He greatly admired his work as an artist, but he also like his strength, and his sense of humor, which was partially due, Brian liked to think, to five years of his own influence. He had discovered Justin's small quirks, his immense appetite, and what made him giggle.

For some reason, he loved to make Justin giggle, whereas on Michael or Emmett or anyone else it just annoyed the shit out of him. He was truly scared that he was falling for the blond, but at the same time a part of him wasn't scared at all. After all, he's obviously had feelings for Justin before, and it had turned out ok. Why couldn't it this time?

At the moment, however, Brian wasn't thinking about Justin. They were both ensconced on the sofa, Justin watching some crap movie on TV, while Brian was coming down from the blow job Justin had given him as a reward for watching said crap TV movie with him.

But Brian's mind refused to move away from the nightmares he had been experiencing. Even Justin's presence couldn't rid him of them entirely, and he would go over and over them in his head, searching for clues as to how to stop them. He remembered quite a bit more than he let on.

"Justin," he said suddenly. "Jack, my dad.....he's dead, isn't he?" Justin met his gaze levelly.

"Yes," he said. "He died of lung cancer the same year I met you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brian questioned him.

"I didn't know how," Justin said honestly, "but if you want to know now?" Brian nodded. "I don't know very much," Justin admitted. "If you want more, you'll have to ask Michael. I know that he came to tell you he was dying a few months before, and that Debbie persuaded you to tell him you were gay."

Brian snorted. "Bet he loved that," he mumbled.

Justin nodded. "You told me, years later, that he said you should be the one dying, not him." Brian's face closed off at this, bringing into practice the mask that had served him for so many years. "You didn't see him much after then," Justin went on. "You got a call a few months later saying that he'd died. You pretended not to care, but I knew better. I don't know about the rest. We weren't very close at that point."

"And what about my dear old mother," Brian asked. "Does she know I'm a faggot too?"

"Yep," Justin told us. "She came to visit one day, and I walked out of the bedroom, freshly fucked, before I realized who it was."

Brian laughed. "That must have been fun."

"She told us that we were going to hell," Justin agreed. "Of course, you happened to know that her dear old minister was a fag - having fucked him at the baths." Brian just stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Well, I guess if she had to find out, at least we got some laughs out of it," he said finally. Then he turned serious again, appearing to think something over.

"You know what, Sunshine," he said, "I think it's time I went to see my Dad."

"Are you sure?" Justin asked.

"Oh, yeah."

 

 


	3. Strange Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin begin to cope with their situation, but a steady string of visitors to the loft seem determined not to let that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains abuse of a child by their parent.

A lone grey figure bent over the grave. From the gate Brian and Justin watched as Mrs. Kinney clipped away the grass around the edge of her husband's grave, took away the rotting flowers and replaced them with fresh ones. Then she stood with her hand on the grave stone and began to mumble, praying to herself Brian assumed. 

He turned away from the scene in front of him and made for the 'vette. He got inside and placed the key in the ignition but didn't turn it. Instead he waited silently, hands in his lap, as Justin climbed into the car. 

"Where to?" the young man asked jovially. Brian looked at him, surprised. 

"Huh?" 

"Well, we're obviously not stopping here," Justin told him. "So where are we going?" 

"But....but...” spluttered Brian, "don't you want to know why I changed my mind?" 

"Not really," Justin said. "It's freezing in here. I just want to get some heat into the car, so if you don't mind?" He gestured at the ignition. 

"But, but," he protested again. He wasn't used to not having people question him. 'Why did you do that?" 'How could you do that to him?' 'Do you have to be such an asshole?' He didn't know what to say. 

'Nothing," his mind shrieked at him. 'This is what you wanted, no one poking their nose into your business. Say nothing!" Brian hesitated for just a second too long and Justin took pity on him. 

"Fine," he said indulgently, "Why don't you visit your father's grave?" 

"Because I don't think I can do it yet." The words burst past his lips before he was even aware that he was speaking. "Because I can't face both of them at once, because I just don't fucking think I can do it and stay sane right now."

"There," said Justin gently, "Don't you feel better?" 

Brian glared at him, but had to admit to himself that it felt as though a weight he had been carrying around with him had finally been lifted. Justin collapsed back into his seat and began to laugh. Brian's glare intensified. 

"I'm sorry," Justin managed to gasp out, "but I didn't think that was going to work. I was nervous I didn't think I could do it without laughing. I can't help it now." Brian stared at him incredulously. 

"You played me," he breathed out quietly to himself. Even Mikey didn't know him that well and he's only know this kid for a few week..... years..... however fucking long. 

"I wasn't sure it would work," Justin admitted. "You can normally spot that stuff a mile off, but you used to let me get away with it sometimes, so I thought....." he trailed off.

"What would you have done if I hadn't caved?" Brian asked. Justin shrugged. 

"Would have been no worse than if I'd asked you outright and you'd said nothing." Brian snorted then turned the key in the ignition and drove the car away from the cemetery. 

"You mad?" Justin asked in a small voice. Brian snorted again but didn't change his expression. Justin smiled, but wisely said nothing, when Brian slipped his own hand into his. 

>>>

Justin breathed in the cold winter air. Brian was at work and Justin was enjoying a rare afternoon of freedom. As much as he loved Brian the constant company was wearing. 

Looking around him Justin took in the scenery around him, the stark, gray sky, the leafless trees, the few lone people wandering the park. Taking out his sketch pad he began to draw the landscape, the bare branches of the trees at the edge of the park with the high buildings of Pittsburgh rising up behind. 

He became so involved with what he was doing that he barely looked up until he heard someone let out a loud yell. Quickly getting to his feet he saw that teenage girl had slipped on the ice just a few feet in front of him and offered his arm to help her up. 

"Whoa," the girl said, steadying herself on his shoulder. "Thanks." Justin studied her as she caught her breath. 

She was small, quite a few inches less than him in height. She was Asian, with long straight black hair and smooth brown skin. Justin thought she had spoken with a British accent. 

"You ok?" he asked. She looked him over and nodded. Justin blushed under her scrutiny. 

"What?" 

"You're pretty fit, mate," she said bluntly. "Who knew the Pitts had such buff men." 

"You're not my type," he told her, smiling at the praise. 

"Why the fuck not?" she demanded. "I'm everyone's type." 

"I'm gay," Justin told her hesitantly. Her reaction surprised him. 

"Aaah, legend!" she said, holding her hand up. Justin stared at her for a moment, then grinned and high fived her. 

"I'm Justin." 

"Mish. Well, Ashma, but everyone calls me Mish." 

"So what are you doing in the Pitts?" 

"My Dad went to Carnegie Mellon," Mish said, and giggled. "That name always cracks me up," she explained. "Now he does...." she waved her hand, "something with steel. He had to meet some people and then he's going to check out his old school. I'm supposed to meet him there." 

"I'll walk you there," Justin offered. "A friend of mine works there." 

"Cool. So what's your deal?" she asked as they began to walk. Justin shrugged. "Seriously," Mish said. "I know people and there's something up with you." 

"It's nothing, really, just-" he broke off at her skeptical look. 

"You were sitting in the freezing cold, barely moving. Don't have to be a genius like me to figure out what's wrong." 

"Hmmph," Justin snorted. "You're a genius?" His voice was loaded with sarcasm. 

"Duh! C'mon, look at me. Can you imagine that I'm anything less than perfect?" Justin burst out laughing.  
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" Mish gave another 'duh' look. 

"Now, c'mon, tell me what's wrong." Justin looked at her for a moment, hesitation written across his face. Then the pressure of having gone so long without sharing his feelings became too much. 

"There's this guy," he began, and before he knew it the whole story came pouring out of his mouth. 

Mish jumped in confidentially with questions, but wouldn't let him stop until he had finished. Justin faltered over a few things but she didn't seem phased by any details of Brian and his sex life. 

"There's a dyke in my class at home," she explained when he asked. "And stop looking so outraged; I call her that because she calls herself that and she's my friend. Anyway, she's obsessed with all things gay. Gay rights, gay marriage, gay schools," and her eyebrows rose, "gay sex. There's not much you can say that I haven't heard before. Now stop trying to avoid the subject and tell me about Brian." 

Justin raised his eyebrow in return, but went back to telling her about their trip to Hawaii. 

Justin finished his description of their aborted journey to the cemetery then stopped, waiting for Mish's verdict. He wasn't sure why he was so anxious for the opinion of a stranger when he honestly couldn't care less about his friends thoughts, but something about the girl had struck him and he trusted her judgment. 

"Wow," she said. "Sounds like a lot of work." 

"No kidding." 

"Sounds like you doing a good job too. Keep it up." Justin looked down. 

"I almost didn't come back," he whispered. 

"What?" 

"I almost didn't come back that night before it all happened. And even though I did, I was getting so tired I had almost decided to leave him anyway. And then he held out his hand and asked for my key. And I have never been so scared since I found out that he had cancer and he threw me out.

"I had been so focused on all the problems, the differences between us that I forgot, again, how much worse it is to be without him. And now it seems like its all problems again and I don't know what to do." 

"Oh please, you're doing fine. How bad has it gone so far? Stop feeling sorry for yourself." Justin looked up and realized they had reached the school's campus. 

"Where are you meeting your Dad?" he asked. 

"At the admin building," she told him and then fell silent as Justin turned them in that direction and they began to walk. 

"You're not one for self pity, are you?" 

"I don't have any time for it." 

"You're quite like Brian, you know?" 

"How?" 

"He hates self pity and sympathy-" 

"That's me-" 

"-is arrogant and completely self confident-"

"-me too." 

"-hates the idea of marriage, kids, commitment" 

"Oh God, don't even talk about that-"

"And he's a complete label queen." 

"Sounds like we're both quite hot too." 

Justin started to laugh again. Mish held up her hand and they high fived. 

"Legend!" Mish shouted. 

Just then Ben came into view, accompanied by an attractive Asian man, dressed in a suit Justin thought recognized from Brian's wardrobe as being Armani. 

"Your Dad?" 

"How'd you guess?" 

"Ashma!" the older man called and she bounded over to him. Ben smiled in greeting at Justin as Mish began to chatter into her father's ear. Before Justin could open his mouth she was back by his side, dragging forward. 

"This is Justin," she told her father. "I met him on the way, and he said he had a friend here so he would walk me over." 

The older man's face broke into a frown, but Ben broke in smoothly before he could speak. "It's quite alright, Mr. Paul," he reassured his companion. "Justin here is a part of my family." Mr. Paul's face cleared. 

"Really? Well you do seem to get around, Professor Bruckner. Mr. Kinney mentioned that he knew you when I spoke to him about our advertising here in the states. 

"You spoke to Brian?" Justin broke in eagerly. 

"Oh, not recently. Someone else, Smit, Smith something was there when I went in this morning." Justin sighed. He had hoped that it was a sign that Brian was getting back to the real world, but obviously he was clinging to false hope. A bad habit of his when it came to Brian. 

"Professor Bruckner was about to tell me just what it is he teaches," Mr. Paul was telling his daughter. "But first, if I may ask, how are the two of you related? You are cousins, perhaps?"

Ben grinned at Justin and began to speak. "It's really a little hard to say. Our family is rather unique." Justin grinned back. "Let me see if I have this right," Ben went on. "Justin is my husband's best friend's partner." 

"Don't forget surrogate son," Justin piped up. 

"Of course, how could I forget?" Ben laughed. "Justin, just like the rest of us, is one of the many sons of my mother-in-law, the infamous Mrs. Novotny." He turned back to Mr. Paul, hoping to see an answering smile on his face, but a frown had once again replaced the Mr. Paul's more pleasant expression. He looked shaken and pulled back slightly from Ben and Justin. 

"I see," he said, all trace of cheerfulness gone from his voice. "Well, we had best be going. Ashma, we're leaving." Looking no less merry than she had before, his daughter took off after him. 

"See ya," she called back unrepentantly over her shoulder when Mr. Paul seemed about to speak. 

"See ya," Justin yelled after her retreating back. Ben's smile was struggling to stay on his face, but Justin's was just as wide as ever. 

Somehow, despite what had just happened, he knew that everything was going to be ok. 

>>>

"Get up," Justin told Brian, poking at the body lying on the bed. 

"Hmph." 

"GET UP! Justin yelled into Brian's ear." 

"AAAAAAGH" Brian shot straight up out of bed.

"What.....the fuck.....do you think.....you're doing?" he panted, glaring at Justin. Justin giggled, unable to contain his laughter. 

"You scream like a girl," he teased in a sing song voice. Brian gave him a withering look. "You scream like a girl," Justin repeated, unrepentant. 

"Are you three?" Brian asked, incredulous. Justin opened his mouth to speak again but Brian lunged forward and covered his lips with his own. He nibbled on Justin's lower lip then slipped his tongue into the blonde’s mouth. He continued to kiss him until he heard Justin moan and his body melt into Brian's, utterly pliant.

He drew away but leant his forehead against the shorter man's, their mouths inches from each other, their breath mingling. "You still want to play?" Brian murmured and bestowed one last gentle kiss on the flushed, cupid bow lips. 

"I want to now," Justin whispered back, and leaned forward, but Brian pulled back, releasing Justin and causing him to stumble slightly. 

"Why the fuck did you wake me up like that?" he demanded. Justin shook his head, remembering himself. The words had been harsh but Brian's tone had been mild and Justin took heart from that. 

"You," he said, pointing a finger at Brian "are hiding. And the Brian Kinney I know, that everyone knows, does not hide." Justin hated using the Brian Kinney myth against his lover, but it was all he had to work with. 

"You are going to go shower, and get dressed," Justin ordered. "Then we're going to Babylon and you're going fuck me and at least three tricks in the backroom before you leave. Then you're going to get back to your life." 

Justin wasn't sure if he or Brian was more surprised when the older man turned to go into the bathroom to do as he was told. 

>>>

Justin was floating. The world was full of color and lights and music floating in from the darkness, and most of all, full of Brian. Brian, hot, hard, smelling of Beam, cigarettes and so there than Justin couldn't wait. Had hardly been able to wait, to keep his hands off of him in the car, and wasn't going to now when they were just standing in the elevator. 

On his knees, hard metal, the cold seeping in through the material of his jeans. The rasp of a zipper, so incongruous in that magical place that Justin couldn't help but giggle. 

And then finally what he'd been looking for: cock, salty, heavy, perfect in his mouth. No time for preliminaries or teasing, he was so, so hungry for Brian. 

For a moment he sucked lightly on the head, his tongue playing with the slit, but then he opened his throat and swallowed deep down, delighting in the groan he drew from Brian's lips. 

Then his tongue, lips and throat were working in unison, working to get Brian off as quickly as possible, starving for the taste of his cum. He felt hands in his hair, tugging on the silky strands, and he hummed his pleasure, causing Brian to moan. 

All too soon he was spilling down Justin's throat. Justin swallowed hungrily, but instead of letting go of the organ in his mouth he continued to suckle on it, cleaning it of any last remnants of cum. He carried on until Brian, whimpering from the over stimulation, pulled him to his feet and kissed him, tasting himself on Justin's tongue. 

"How do you do that?" he whispered against the blonde’s lips. "No one makes me lose control like you do." Justin knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Brian was trying to tell him something, something important. But his mind was singing and he was still hungry. As hungry for Brian to fuck him as he had been to taste him just seconds before. 

Shoving the elevator's gate out of the way and sliding up the barrier, he took Brian's hand and led him into the loft. Brian followed willingly. 

Both drunk, both high and both desperate for the feel of each other they fumbled with the key and alarm, stumbled into the loft and fumbled again, laughing as they stripped each other of their clothes. 

Brian's mind was screaming at him, saying that it was too close, too happy, too familiar. Sex was about getting off. It was not about laughter, or bright blue eyes that made you want to melt, or even touches burning fire through your skin no matter where they landed. 

But faced with a warm giggling blond he couldn't seem to care. Found himself giving up control once again, so quickly, so easily, until he was lying naked on his bed with Justin draped over him, kissing down his chest. 

Suddenly he pulled back and just sat there, looking at Brian. The older man squirmed under the blonde’s attention and was about to speak when Justin broke the silence that surrounded them. 

“Beautiful," he murmured. "You're so beautiful." Justin was still high; Brian could see it in his eyes, but still the older man found himself touched by the other's words. The look on Justin's face made him feel as though he was the centre of the artist's world. From Justin's point of view, everything else was peripheral to him. 

Scared by so much emotion Brian chuckled, rich and deep, and reached out for Justin, drawing him close. 

"You're not so bad yourself." 

"I know," the blond told him, sounding somewhat indignant. He pouted at Brian, as though cross that Brian could have thought anything else. The auburn haired man couldn't help but laugh again, but then he reached up and caught Justin's pouty lips with his own, savoring the flavor. 

As they kissed he carefully flipped them over so that Justin was lying beneath him. He began to kiss down Justin's neck, his lips never fully leaving the pale skin. 

"It's still weird though, you know?" Brian looked up astonished. Justin should be incoherent with pleasure right now. He should not be talking! 

"I'm not your type; you know that, don't you?" Justin went on, completely oblivious to Brian's annoyance. Brian groaned. While at the club it had seemed as though E made the boy horny. Well that was fine by Brian. But now it was making him talkative. Brian hated talkative tricks, and a talkative Justin was only marginally less irritating. It didn't matter who it was, he still wasn't getting laid. 

"You like BIG BEEFY men," Justin was babbling in a pseudo-macho voice - and he put his arms out and flexed his muscles in imitation of the men he was describing. Brian couldn't help but laugh as his annoyance at the kid melted away.

For a moment his mind flashed him back to another time in this bed, when Justin had wanted to talk instead of fuck and had persuaded Brian to help him with some school club. He shook his head as he remembered the way he had humored the boy and the memory was gone again, replaced with the same babbling blond boy, just a few years older.

Determined not to let the sudden memory throw him, Brian chose instead to study Justin. Looking down at him, he drank in the sight. Creamy white skin, soft and warm to the touch. Pink Cupid’s bow lips. His body was small and lithe, not built like the men Brian usually preferred, but well defined for all that.

Silky blond hair and most breath taking of all the crystal blue eyes shining up at him with an emotion Brian didn't dare classify as love, because, after all, who could love him? Brian was drawn out of his musings by Justin's continued rambling. 

"So strange that you would choose me," he was muttering to himself. "S'what they all said. Little twink. Princess." He was still smiling, but Brian had stopped. He didn't like what he was hearing. 

"Knew you wanted me but I was still terrified. Every time I came back you'd push me away, and then I would push back and back and back and back," Justin repeated, giggling. "Knew you loved me, but I was never sure why." Then he rolled his hips against Brian's bringing their dicks into contact. 

Brian groaned, but didn't react otherwise; he had the feeling that he needed to think about what Justin had said. But Justin had other plans. He leaned up and pressed their lips together and Brian's control broke. He ravished Justin’s lips, attacking them until Justin fell back on the bed, breathless. 

Brian took in the sight of him, lips red and swollen, hair mussed, pale skin flushed and the pupils of his eyes dilated with lust. Brian kissed down his neck once more and this time Justin reacted as he was supposed to, writing and wriggling under his touch. 

Brian's lips moved across his stomach and down the small slivery trail that led to his pubic hair. Bypassing his cock altogether Brian bit at Justin’s thighs, then soothed the bites with careful licks, causing Justin to squirm.

"Please, Brian," Justin pleaded. "Please!" 

Brian drew back, smirking. "Please what, Sunshine?" Brian teased, stroking fingers up and down Justin's legs, his touch feather light. This small stimulation had the boy almost bucking off the bed. 

"Please anything," he shouted. "Brian, just - aagh." Brian had leant down and sealed his lips over the tip of Justin's cock, making him shout out. His tongue flicked over the sensitive slit, and then he pulled back and blew on the wet flesh. Justin gasped, unable to speak. 

Brian continued to cover the rest of Justin's cock the same way, licking short, thin strips up the sides of the hard organ, then blowing on the sensitive skin, causing Justin to shiver and cry out. 

Brian grinned. He loved to be in control, but this kid gave himself to Brian, trusted him, just let go in a way that no one else had ever done. It made it that much easier for Brian to try to do the same for him. 

Finally Brian licked slowly up to the top of Justin's cock and took as much into his mouth as he could, pulling a strangled yell from Justin's lips. Peripherally Brian was aware of the size of Justin's dick; not as large as his own but certainly large for someone of his slim build. Most of his concentration, however, remained on the task at hand. 

He stretched out a hand and fumbled to open the drawer in the bedside table, before pulling out a tube of lube and a condom. Careful to keep Justin distracted with his mouth Brian opened the condom and slipped it on with practiced movements, thankful for the experience which made such a maneuver so easy to accomplish. 

Then he snapped open the lid of the lube and squeezed a liberal amount onto the fingers of his right hand. Now holding the hips of the squirming boy in front of him close to the bed Brian carefully slipped the fingers of his other hand in between Justin's ass cheeks. Justin moaned and spread his legs further apart, bending his knees to allow Brian more access. 

Brian circled the exposed pucker, then, without warning, pushed his entire index finger into the boy. Justin shot off the bed, and Brian could feel that he was close to coming, but he pushed him back down and rubbed soothing circles on his hip. At the same time he almost completely came off of Justin's cock, keeping only the head in his mouth and sucking lightly. 

Justin began to keen in the back of his throat at the loss of sensation, but Brian's finger began to thrust and the whines changed to little breathy sighs of pleasure. Slowly Brian added a second and then a third finger, careful to keep his stimulation of Justin's body light, not wanting him to come yet. 

Finally Justin was a panting pleading mess beneath him and Brian knew that if he didn't find some relief for himself he was going to come all over the sheets like a schoolboy. So, carefully, he crooked his fingers, searching for Justin’s prostate. Feeling a small nub beneath his finger tips and hearing Justin's groan of pleasure Brian knew he had found it, and simultaneously pushed against it and took the entirety of Justin's length into his mouth. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Justin's body spasmed and Brian's mouth was filled with thick creamy come which he swallowed eagerly. But even as he did so, he pulled his fingers out of Justin's body and ran them carefully over his own shaft, lubricating it. 

The moment that Justin stopped spurting Brian pulled off of his spent cock and pulling himself up the bed plunged into his tight hole. Both shouted as the intense stimulation and for a moment Brian lay still, willing himself to regain control. 

As he did so he watched Justin for signs of discomfort; he didn't pull this trick very often. Too many men found the sudden stimulation to be painful, but he was betting on the fact that this kid looked about ready for anything and by the way the Justin was already rocking back on his cock, he had been right. 

Brian was worked up from preparing Justin, and the intense pleasure of having Brian inside him so soon after an orgasm made sure that neither lasted long. Brian could feel Justin's dick, which had never really softened, return to full hardness against his stomach, and so he pounded into the boy, spurred on by Justin's cries. 

Brian came first, just a few minutes later and Justin followed straight after, the feeling of Brian's cock shooting inside of him too much to bear. They lay together for a moment until Brian pulled out and carefully disposed of the condom. Justin whined at the loss but made no move to stop him. When Brian came back the blond simply curled up around him and fell asleep. 

Brian was eager to do the same, worn out by the night's exertions, but he found himself pondering Justin's words. "Knew you loved me, but I was never sure why." How brave must the boy have been to keep coming back, keep facing rejection, and often in fact, receiving it? A big part of Brian wanted to call it stupidity, but when faced with the idea of doing it himself, he didn't perceive it as foolish but as terrifying. 

What he must have put the kid through. No wonder Justin had been scared by what had happened to him. He had been so brave once; he couldn't have wanted to do it again. 

Could Brian ever have that kind of faith? Never to be sure why, but to know, completely and absolutely, that someone loved him. Two months ago Brian would have scoffed at the idea. But now..... He must have had some kind of faith, or Justin wouldn't still be here. He must have somehow learned to believe in Justin. 

And while the prospect of doing so scared him, Brian had one thing on his side. Justin. Who told him that he loved him, who he could see was still here after five years and so must have lived up to the faith Brian had in him. It wasn't just a case of 'will he?' but a case of 'he has.' 

Besides, Brian Kinney wasn't going to let himself be bested by some twink. The man grinned at his own childish behavior, something he didn't often allow himself to indulge in. Anything you can do I can I can do better! But in the end, it was true. He was Brian fucking Kinney, and if he said that he could do something, and then he could. 

Brian closed his eyes and slept, for the first time safe in the knowledge that he was loved - and that he could love someone back. 

>>>

Justin awoke the next morning to the shrill sound of the alarm. He rolled over onto his side, expecting Brian to turn it off, but when the noise didn't abate he lifted his head and looked blearily around. Brian was gone. 

Slapping the alarm off he shook his head until his eyes finally focused on a folded paper on the pillow beside him. 

Hurry up and get your ass out of bed!  
You're meeting Daphne in an hour. I'm at  
Kinnetic. Thai tonight? 

B. 

Justin grinned. Brian was back. Rolling out of bed he quickly showered and pulled on his clothes. He grabbed his keys and opened the door - only to find a certain red headed waitress on the other side. 

"Debbie," he said uncertainly. He had been expecting her to try and speak to them at some point, but just about to leave he hadn't been prepared for an ambush. 

"How did you get in?" he asked, casting around for something to say.

"Oh, someone was leaving when I got here, so I just slipped inside," she said good naturedly. 

"Well, Brian's not-" 

"Oh, I know he won't be here," she interrupted. "Little thing like amnesia ain't gonna keep Brian from his precious agency. No, I wanted to talk to you, Sunshine." 

"I was just on my way ou-"

"C'mon, ya can't spare a little time for me?" 

"I'm meeting-"

"That's what I thought," she said, pushing past him into the loft. "Now where shall I put this?" 

Justin stared at her blankly, until she pointedly indicated the covered casserole dish in her hands. Only just having realized she was carrying anything, Justin shook his head. Food became so much a part of Debbie that you rarely noticed she had it until she was trying to force it down your throat. 

"Let me," he offered, relieving her of her burden, and quickly depositing the dish in the fridge. 

"Thanks, sweetie." 

"Look, Deb," he tried again, "I really appreciate this but I do have to get going."

"And I do have to talk to you," she insisted. Justin tried to protest again but when he saw her take off her coat and gloves he gave up, scooping up the items of snowy clothing before they could touch Brian's $5,000 leather sofa. 

Once they were hung up and all items of furniture were once again safe he dropped down onto the sofa himself. Debbie settled herself beside him. 

"Now," she began, "what's all this about Brian having amnesia? It's not just some kind of hoax is it?" She looked hopeful.

"Of course not," Justin exclaimed. "As if Brian would do that!" 

"Well, with him you never can tell. I've known he was trouble since the day I met him and he hasn't changed as much as you might think in 19 years." Justin just stared at her. He could see that Debbie really believed Brian might do something like fake having lost the past five years of his life, just to - well, just to cause trouble. 

"Look, Debbie," he said coldly, rising from the sofa, "I appreciate your concern, but all this is something you should really be asking Brian." 'Although thank God you didn't,' he added in his head. 

"You sit down, Sunshine," she ordered him, "and don't you take that tone with me. I helped raise the both of you, so I can ask you any questions that I damn well want." 

Justin groaned and sat. Standing up to Debbie took vast amounts of energy, and after spending so much time worrying about Brian, energy was something that he didn't have left. 

"Now, since you say it's true, I guess it must be." Justin rolled his eyes but stayed silent. "So what's being done about it? Has he got anything back? Is he going to be alright?" 

"He has a few memories back. Which are his own business," he said firmly, when it looked as though Debbie was going to interrupt again. "As for doing something about it, we're just trying to get back to normal." 

"That's it!" Debbie screeched. "That's all you're trying to do to help him?" 

"There's nothing else I can do." Justin snapped. His patience was wearing very thin. 

"But there has to be something," she rushed on. "Has he tried going to see a shrink? Hypnotism? Has he-" 

"Stop," Justin roared. Debbie closed her mouth, looking affronted. "Look," he tried again, in a conciliatory tone, "I know you want to help but Brian's dealing with this the way he wants to. Trying to force himself to remember could easily make the situation worse. He just needs to be around familiar things-"

"Well then," Debbie broke in, seeming delighted to have found a point she could argue, "He should be spending more time with his family. Not this avoidance bullshit!"

"He's doing it the way he wants to-" 

"Well, he doesn't always know what's best for him. He needs-"

"You know what's best for him!" Justin exploded. "You don't know shit. If he'd been here would you have asked him if the whole thing was a joke? Let him know that you considered him to be nothing but trouble? How the fuck would that have helped him?" 

"I was just trying-" 

"Well, don't. We don't need your help, especially if that is what it entails. Brian will come to you when he is ready, just like he would have told you about his problems in his own time if you hadn't forced them out of him. Now," he said more calmly, reeling in his temper, "thanks for the food. Let me see you out." 

Taking a slightly shaken Debbie by the arm he led her to the door and gently but firmly pushed her out. 

Looking up at the clock he shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. There was no way that he was going to meet Daphne on time. 

"Daph? Hi." 

"You're gonna cancel, aren't you?" 

"What? No, I'm just running a bit late. Got ambushed by Deb." 

"Oh, poor Justin. Does he need someone to protect him from the scary old lady?" 

"Oh, shut it. You know what Deb gets like when she wants something." 

"Yeah, I do. It's why I'm always so glad she never wants something from me - and why I love to sit back and watch you squirm." 

"Ha ha - oh shit." 

"What?"

"The buzzer just went. Gimme a sec and I'll get rid of them." 

Justin crossed over to the intercom system. "Who is it?" 

"Justin? It's Michael." Justin groaned. Another conversation he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid. "Fine," he said in a despairing tone of voice. "Come on up." Then he remembered the phone he was holding in his hand and groaned again. 

"Um, Daph?" 

"You're canceling, aren't you?" 

"NO! Well, yes, sorta."

"Sort of?" 

"Well, it's Michael; you know what he's like. He won't let me go until I give him something." 

"It's just not your day is it?" 

"Tell me about it," Justin muttered, rubbing his hands over his temples. He could feel a major headache coming on. "Look, I don't think I'll be able to escape any time soon. Why don't you come over in an hour, we can hang out here, watch some DVD's." 

"You sure you're up to it? You don't sound so good." 

"Nothing that a little best friend time can't cure?" 

"Or a little fuck time! Where is Brian anyway?" 

"At the office. Last night I ordered him to get out of bed and go to Babylon and get his life back. I guess it worked." He giggled. "Either that or the fanfuckingtastic fuck we had when we got home." 

"Justin Taylor, the man who healed by fucking!" Daphne proclaimed in a loud, over dramatic voice. Justin snorted. 

"Now, go feed your dog a bone," she told him, and hung up. Justin grinned as he put the phone down. Despite the headache, he felt pretty happy. Talking to his best friend always picked him up. 

The grin slid from his face as he heard a knock on the door. 

'Here it goes again.'

Michael stood outside the door, looking sheepish. 

"Hi," he said, rubbing his arms nervously, "I know you wanted everyone to stay away, but-" 

"But you couldn't contain your curiosity." It came out more harshly than Justin had intended. Michael drew back, hurt.

"No," he said indignantly. "I was worried about you - both of you." 

"Sorry," Justin apologized. "Your mom just left..." 

"Say no more," Michael told him, entering the left. "I know what it's like to be interrogated by my mother. She means well, but..." 

"Yeah," Justin agreed. "So, what can I do for you?" 

"Nothing," Michael said, looking surprised. "Like I said I was just worried. I tried to stay away for as long as I could but everything kept chasing round my head till I felt like I had to speak to one of you or die from the stress."

Justin couldn't help but chuckle. Michael looked a little embarrassed at his outburst. "Christ, I think I'm turning into my mother," he exclaimed. 

"It's fine," Justin told him. "Although if you were worried, why didn't you go to Kinnetic? Or come round when you knew Brian would be here?" Michael looked sheepish again. 

"Well, we haven't exactly been getting along lately." Justin snorted. Michael glared at him but carried on. "It's just that I accused him of being too much of a club boy, and suddenly, bam, he is a club boy again, at least in his head. It's just all too weird, you know?" 

Wearily, Justin nodded his head. "Believe me, I know." He collapsed onto the sofa, and Michael joined him. Eyeing his guest, Justin suddenly sat up straight. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude," he said. "Everything's just been so - would you like something to drink?" he went on, half rising. Michael pulled him down.

"I'm fine," he told him firmly. "But you're not. I'm not half as worried about Brian as I would be if he didn't have you. Which means that I'm just as worried about you as I am about him. How are you holding up?" 

"Pretty well, actually," Justin confided to him. "I am," he said defensively at Michael's skeptical look. "It's been hard," he went on, and Michael's face softened. "But it's getting better. Brian's finally gone back to work for real, and he seems to be holding up. As for me, I'm just hanging in there, and.... waiting." He shrugged. 

"Waiting for what?" Michael asked gently. 

"Oh, I don't know," Justin said, exasperated. "For the world to make sense again. For Brian to be Brian. To be as sure as I used to be that he lo-" he broke off, unable to continue around the lump that had formed in his throat. He thought he had got rid of these feelings, damn it. They were not supposed to come out in front of Brian's best friend. 

"To be sure that he loves you," Michael finished for him. Justin nodded. "Why would you think he doesn't?" Justin let out a half laugh, half sob. 

"Oh, I don't know," he said bitterly. "Because I'm not the same guy that he fell in love with when he was 29? Because right now, I'm just convenient?" 

"Now, that's not true," Michael said. "You may know Brian better than anyone, but this is the 29 year old Brian we're talking about, and I happen to know him pretty well. And he would not keep someone around just because they are convenient." 

"Oh, yeah?" Justin challenged him. "Isn't that what you used to say about me then? Besides he needs me right now. What's going to happen when he doesn't?" 

"First off," Michael said, "I may not want to admit it but five years ago I had no idea what I was talking about. And secondly, yeah he needs you. But not physically, and not mentally. He may not have liked it, but he could have managed the world just fine without you. He needs you emotionally to give him something no one else can. And that's never going to go away. Now pull yourself together," he scolded. 

Justin just looked at him gratefully, but instead of pulling himself together he burst into tears. For a moment Michael look dumbstruck, with no idea what to do, but then he carefully placed his arms around Justin and the boy leaned into him. 

"Shh," he whispered, remembering how his mom had comforted him when he was a kid. "Shh," he said again, stroking Justin's hair and back. "It's alright, it's all gonna be alright." And somehow, Justin believed him. 

>>>

"Hey," Brian greeted Justin as he came through the door. "How was your day?" then he stopped short and shook his head. "I can't believe I just said that," he said to himself. "I'm turning into a husband. Ugh." 

Justin grinned. "Don't worry," he told him. “After the performance you gave Babylon last night, I really doubt that any of them think of you as a husband." 

Brian smirked back. "True," he agreed. "Feel like going out again tonight?" 

"I'm too tired to move," Justin groaned. "But speaking of days, how was yours?"

Brian just smirked again. "Let me guess," Justin went on. "You nailed all your accounts and nailed a few clients into the bargain." 

Brian laughed out loud. "You got it, Sunshine." Going into the bedroom to change, he thought back over his day. 

He would have gone in whether or not Justin had put on that little display the night before, as there were several clients that needed the personal touch. However, he had to admit that he wouldn't have stayed all day, and he definitely wouldn't be planning to go in tomorrow. 

And, as strange as it was, without Justin he never would have fucked the guy that came with the Paul account. The guy had been hot - almost Brian's height with light brown skin and beautiful brown eyes. Brian thought he was the owner’s son. Didn't really matter. 

What did matter was that during his pitch he had felt alive again for the first time outside of Babylon or Justin. He had been in his element: putting forward his ideas; selling them to the client - and basically eye fucking the son throughout the whole thing. Putting on the performance had turned him on, and for the first time since his memory had gone, he had felt in control of his life. He was back. There was just one more thing he had to do. 

"You sure you don't wanna come out tonight?" he asked Justin again as he left the bedroom. "I'm sure you'll find something to catch your attention." Justin laughed. 

"You're probably right," he said, "but I'm exhausted. All I want to do is eat and fall asleep." 

"What happened today?" Brian asked, curious. By now he knew that Justin wasn't likely to give up the chance to play the scene with him - he enjoyed it almost as much as Brian did. 

"Oh, just had some visitors," ha said casually. Brian raised an eyebrow questioningly, not buying it. Justin huffed a laugh. "I got ambushed by Debbie," he explained. Brian winced. "Yeah, she really knows how get to you when she wants to, doesn't she?" Justin went on. Then he looked a little embarrassed.

"I actually kinda exploded at her in the end. Basically told her to get out." 

Brian looked at him disbelievingly. "And she went?" 

"She looked a little shell shocked." 

Brian looked at him for another moment before breaking out into laughter. "I just bet she did. So what else happened?" 

"What else?" Brian just gave him a knowing look. "Oh, fine," Justin huffed. "Debbie had barely left when Michael came over." 

"Ah." 

"And then Daph came here and we messed around." 

Brian frowned, and came and sat down by Justin. "What aren't you telling me?" 

"Huh?" 

"Something happened to you today, and - and I want you to feel able to tell me stuff like that." 

"Brian, do you have any idea how strange that sounds coming from you?"

"Not really, no. Look, I have no idea what's going on with me right now. My memories and emotions don't fit with each other. But I can tell you that with everything that's been happening I've managed to figure something out." 

Justin sat up and made as if to speak, but Brian stopped him. "I've figured out that I, that I..." Justin held his breath. "Well, I know that he loved you. That man, whoever I was a month ago, loved you. And that he was scared of that. And even though I'm not exactly the same guy, I know that I don't love you any less than he did." Brian stopped, and waited for Justin to speak, but all that came was a strangled noise from Justin's throat. 

"Justin?" 

"Um, Brian, are you aware that we just had a talk? About our feelings." 

"Yes." 

"Which you initiated." 

"Yes." 

"And you haven't run screaming." 

"Justin!"

"Ok, I'm just a little - sorry. Just let me check one more thing, then I promise I'll stop. You know that you just told me that you love me." 

Brian gulped. Took a deep breath. Then said firmly, "Yes." 

"Oh," Justin murmured, sounding a little dizzy. "That's what I thought happened." Then he hit himself hard on the arm. "Ow!" 

"Well, what did you think would happen?" Brian said exasperated. He had just bared his soul and he wasn't getting anything in return but a bunch of bullshit.

"That I would wake up." Brian heaved a sigh of relief when Justin's face broke into a smile. "This isn't a dream, is it?" 

"No, Sunshine, it's not." 

"Oh, good," Justin said dazedly. "Brian?" 

"Yes." 

"I love you too." 

"I know, twat." 

"Hey! You can't tell me I'm a twat, you lo-" Brian leant forward and firmly sealed his lips over Justin's. He was just beginning to move downwards when there came a knock on the door. Brian dropped his head onto Justin's shoulder and groaned. Justin just laughed. 

"Go and see whoever it is and get rid of them," he ordered. 

"Yes, sir," Brian barked out, pretending to jump to attention. Justin giggled. Brian had no idea where this playful side of him had come from, but he did think that it was nice to be able to show it without the aid of weed. 

As he walked to the door he was unable to keep the smile off of his face, especially when he turned back for a moment and saw Justin pulling off his clothes, getting ready to continue their activities when he returned. His smile became even broader at the sight, and he opened the door thinking he was going to terrify whoever was on the other side. 

His smile slid from his face. 

"Hello, Mother." 

"Brian," Joan Kinney said coldly. "How are you?" 

"Just fine," Brian snapped out. "What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Now is that any way to speak to your mother," Joan admonished him. "If you must know I saw you at the cemetery the day. I thought perhaps you had come to try and make amends." 

Brian sneered. "Make amends for what? As far as I'm aware I'm only one of the two of us that hasn't stood by while their husband beat up their kid, so I'm not the one that should be making amends." 

"Oh, Brian," Joan said. "Must you always be so angry? I always tried to do what was best for you. I stopped him whenever I could. I raised you, clothed you, fed you. And how do you repay me? By flouting the word of the Lord and raining down shame on your mother. And still I have always tried to help you see the error of your ways." Her voice was rising in pitch. "And yet you turn your back on me and on God, and fling horrible words at me! What kind of son are you?" 

"The kind who makes a better father than a son," Brian told her. "Now leave." He closed the door in her face. 

He turned and saw Justin, still naked but standing right behind him. Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him to him, crushing him to his chest. 

"Shh, it's alright," he heard Justin say, and he realized that for the first time in years, he was crying. When he was done he looked down at the boy in his arms and marveled at how strong he was, how beautiful, how brave. 'And,' he thought, 'he's all mine.' 

Taking his hand, he led him through to the bedroom, and carefully lay him down on the bed. Then he set about touching every part of Justin's body, learning everything there was to know about it, and reveling in the knowledge. Loving Justin until the boy was nothing but a quivering pile of mush. 

Finally, Brian took out a condom and lube. He looked nervously down at the body beneath him and steeled himself for what he was about to do. He had never - 'but you have!' one side of his mind argued. 'Not like this!' the other shouted back. 'Shut up,' he screamed in his head. He was going to do this. 

Keeping Justin distracted with small kisses across his chest, Brian reached back and carefully began to prepare himself. When he was sure he was ready he opened the condom and then rolled quickly onto Justin's dick, then slicked the sheathed length with lube. 

"Wha-" Justin began to say, but Brian was already squatting over him. Carefully, he held Justin's erection in one hand and then slowly lowered himself onto it. Both gasped as the first inch slipped inside. 

Still, "are...you...sure?" Justin managed to gasp out as Brian lowered himself even further. 

"Bit....late....now," Brian squeezed out from between gritted teeth. Then he stopped moving. Justin was all the way inside him. Sweat appeared on Brian's brow as he became used to the intrusion. Finally, he began to slowly move up and down on the hard length. 

"Oh my God," he whispered, so quietly that Justin barely caught it. 

"Are you alright?" he asked his lover, although at this point, with Brian squeezing his dick with his tight ass, he didn't think he would have been able to stop. 

"Amazing," Brian breathed out, and then closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing himself up and down. Then, "Fuck," he yelled, slamming down harder than he had intended to. 

"I guess you found your prostate," Justin said smiling, then groaned as Brian pushed up and slammed down again. 

"Fucking hell," Brian managed to get out, then began to fuck himself in earnest on Justin's cock. The sight of Brian bouncing up and down on his dick was too much for Justin to bear and before he knew it he was close to coming. From the sound Brian was making he wasn't far behind. 

Reaching out, Justin began to pull on Brian's erection, causing his moans to fill the loft. Finally Brian let out a huge shout and came, cum shooting across Justin's belly. The feeling of him spasming around Justin's dick caused the younger man to follow straight after. Brian collapsed onto his chest.

They lay there for a few minutes, regaining their breath and then Brian regretfully sat up and carefully pulled off of Justin. Justin groaned, but got up and got rid of the condom, returning moments later to curl into Brian's side. 

"I love you," he whispered as he fell asleep. 

"Love you to," Brian replied sleepily as he to succumbed to oblivion. 

>>>

The sun is shining today. It's the first really sunny day since the winter began and you plan to enjoy it. But you know that if your father sees you he'll stop you before you can leave. So you tiptoe quietly outside. 

There's not much to do. All you have to play in is the small garden, but you fear the consequences of playing in the street so you stick to what you know. You spend a happy hour clambering in the small apple tree at the back of the garden, but soon you’re bored. 

You go over to where there's a patch of plain earth at the end of the garden. You spot a small trowel that you mother uses to garden and grab it. You begin to dig up the earth, and then you play with it, building hills and castles. 

But the brown earth looks so plain. You look at the neat lines of pretty flowers, but you know better than to touch them too. You shudder as you remember the punishment you received when your mother found her flower beds ruined.

But close to you is the compost pile, and lying on top are the cuttings your mother made and discarded. Surely you're allowed to use these. So you pick them up and use them to help create your little earth world. 

You like the bright colors, the way they seem to make the place more real. They are pretty, and so unlike your real life. You can almost imagine living there, with no mother or father to berate or punish you, no sister to tease you or tell tales. 

A shadow falls across your play area. You look up and you quail back. Your father. "Sissy," he calls you. "Are you a sissy, Sonny boy? Playing with pansies in the dirt." You shake your head vehemently. You don't know what you're being accused of, but you know you must deny it or take the consequences. 

Your father hauls you to your feet, and pain lances through your arm as he drags you into the house. You fight not to cry out, but you can't help when he throws you to the kitchen floor. You stand. 

"Now look what you've done," he roars. You look around you. You don't understand. "Dirt from you all over your mother's nice clean kitchen! Can't you do anything right?" You look down and sure enough the mud that was on your clothes is now on the floor. But you didn't mean to do it. You're sorry. You look up to tell your father this, but he back hands you before you can say a word. You struggle to stay on your feet. 

"Time to teach you a lesson," he says, and drags you upstairs, throws you into your room. You think maybe he won't care if you get the floor dirty in here, but he jerks you to your feet and roughly pulls off your dirty clothes. Then he begins to punish you. 

At first he just hits you, and you think perhaps you'll get off lightly. But then he grabs you and you know it's too late. Any chance you had of stopping him, of stopping this from happening again, is gone. It's not as though you had much of a chance in the first place. 

Pain. Pain flowing through your body, red hot, so bad you can barely stand it. Your father's face, grinning down at you, coming towards you. You twist your body trying to escape, but he's holding you too tightly and - 

You're in the loft. Alone. Knock on the door, the room is spinning slightly. Your mother stands there. She's disappointed in you, so disappointed. 

"Your father," she keeps saying, "Your father. I protected you from him. I took the blows, I took the pain. Your father is gone. Ungrateful son. Your father, your father." 

Sudden knowledge slams into your mind, long buried memories suddenly brought to the fore. You shut the door in her face; grab the nearest bottle of alcohol. Forget, you have to forget. Forget how much love hurts. 

>>>

Brian woke up screaming. 

"Shit!" Justin shot straight up in bed, disoriented. "Brian? Brian, what the fuck, oh shit, Brian, what is it?" 

Abruptly, Brian stopped screaming. "Justin?" he said, squinting at the blond. What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"What d'you mean? Brian, what the fuck is going on." 

"No," Brian said distractedly, running his fingers through his hair. "You shouldn't be here. You left - no wait, you came back. You always come back. Oh, fuck!" 

"Brian?" 

Brian's head was in his hands. He peeked at Justin through his fingers. "Tell me I did not really have amnesia." 

"Um..." 

"Fuck!" Then he looked up at Justin and paled. "Did what I think happened last night happen last night?" 

"Um..." 

"Justin!" 

"Well, that depends. If you think you told me you loved me and let me fuck you, then yeah, that’s what happened last night." 

"Oh God!" 

"Um...." 

"For Christ's sake, would you stop saying fucking um! And stop looking so nervous. I'm not gonna bolt. Actually, on second thoughts I might. What the fuck did I do to myself when I wasn't here?" Brian stopped, looked puzzled, then went on. "Aargh. Oh, you know what I mean. " 

"Um..."


	4. That's Not Love. That's Hate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the return of Brian's memory, he and Justin struggle with the consequences of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: this chapter refers to and describes physical and sexual abuse of a child by a parent. The chapter title is a quote by Brian from the first season.

"Um..."

 

"Jesus fucking Christ! How the hell did I let this happen?"

 

Up until this point Justin had been sleepy and disoriented, at first unsure of what was going on, then trying to make sure that Brian was ok, but at this a great surge of anger rose up within him.

 

"How the hell did this happen? I'll tell you how it fucking well happened! You finally grew some fucking balls."

 

Brian snorted, and began to get out of bed. "Grew some? More like I fucking lost them."

 

"God," Justin said, "Do you have any idea who you sound like? My Dad." Getting out of bed himself, for a moment he failed to notice the incredulous look that Brian turned on him.

 

"You sound more fucking homophobic than a lot of straight people I know," Justin went on, giving vent to anger that had built up inside him for years. "You do sound like my fucking father! Thinking that just because we're two guys we can't love each other! Or that for you to love a guy makes you a woman! If that's what you think, then what must you think of me? Why the fuck so you keep me around when I'm such a big joke to you?"

 

"Joke? You think you're a joke?" Brian spluttered. The situation had been turned around on him and he didn't like it.

 

"No, I think _you're_ a fucking joke," Justin spat at him. "You act like you hate the idea of a hetero lifestyle, when really you live practically every straight guy's dream! The only difference is that you're sucking on cock instead of tits!" Brian looked as though he wanted to break in at this point, but Justin continued.

 

"They sleep with their secretaries and you pick up the hottest guys at the clubs. _You_ want to try and teach me to be the best homosexual I can be? Well let me tell you something. Real fags have courage. They have determination. They stand up against the world because about half of it hates them. And they find the courage to live their lives the way they want to despite what scares them.

 

"But you? You can't get past your fears and be a real man, a real fag. The one time you actually act like you've got enough courage and conviction to get past your fears you take it back the next fucking day. We're all _scared_ of love Brian, you're hardly the only one. You just like to play it that way."

 

Brian just stood there watching him, looking stunned. Justin sighed, and when he spoke again, all the anger had left his voice.

 

"Do you even remember what we were fighting about, the night all this happened?" he asked wearily. "We were fighting because I'd done something horribly domestic, which put you in a bad mood and for once I'd called you on it. And then here we are, doing the same thing again. What's the fucking point?" Quickly, he pulled on some clothes and headed for the door.

 

"Where are you going," Brian asked in a wavering voice.

 

"Somewhere else," Justin replied. "My Mom's for a little while."

 

"Are you coming back?"

 

Justin's shoulder's slumped.

 

"What's the point?"

 

"So you're just giving up?"

 

"I've tried. I've done all the scarey parts. I'm not scared any more, Brian, just so so tired. When you decide you've got the courage to be a real man, a real faggot, come and find me. I'm too tired to do it for you this time."

 

Justin walked out of the door, and Brian watched him go.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

A real fag. What the fuck did Justin think he was talking about? He was a real fag. The hottest fag and the hottest fuck in the Pitts. And unlike Mikey and Ben, unlike all the other Stepford fags, he wasn't giving in, wasn't becoming a faux hetero.

 

That's all it was in the end, everything Justin wanted. It was _conforming_ to become part of the straight world. If fags were careful and didn't talk about sex in front of the straights and acted just like them, maybe, just maybe they'd leave them alone.

 

Well that wasn't what Brian was going to do. He faced the world head on. He didn't need to hide behind any mask. Balls? He had plenty of them, and he wasn't gonna let them slip away in exchange for a nice house in the suburbs and a suffocating monogamous lifestyle.

 

 _That wasn't what Justin wanted,_ his mind said. _He only wanted to know how much he meant to you. Didn't he tell you to come here and fuck at least three guys, not three days ago?_

 

'Shut up,' Brian snarled in his head, and went back to scanning the crowd for tonight's trick. But despite the abundance of leather clad thighs, smooth chests and bulging muscles, nothing was capturing his interest.

 

 _But look over there,_ the voice in his mind whispered to him again. _Look at him. Small, blond, great ass. Hot, isn't he?_ He was, Brian had to admit to himself. For the first time that evening his cock started to show an interest, and he moved away from the bar to go over to the trick.

 

He had almost reached him when his mind spoke up again. _In fact, he looks just like Just-_

 

'Shut up,' Brian growled again, and moved away from the trick as if he'd been burned. He sighed; he might as well face it. He wasn't gonna get what he came looking for tonight.

 

'Who cares anyway?' he added childishly. 'I should have been rid of him years ago. And he should have known better. I told him I didn't believe in love. I told him it was all bullshit.'

 

"Hey, Brian." A figure adressed him from the darkness. Peering in the direction the voice had come from he groaned and covered him eyes.

 

"What do you want?"

 

"Well, a little bird told me," Emmett said, moving forward so that Brian could see him, "that you might be all on your lonesome tonight."

 

"Let me guess," Brian said dryly. "The bird had fake red hair and rainbow feathers?"

 

"Debbie?" Emmett sounded surprised. "No, this bird was more like a ray on Sunshine."

 

"So, now that he's no longer living with me he thinks it's perfectly alright to go round telling everyone my business," Brian snarled, felling a wave of anger wash over him. He didn't really want to be angry at Justin, was fairly sure that the blond didn't warrent anger, but the emotion was far more easy to deal with than the pain he had been keeping at bay all day.

 

"As if Justin would do that to you!" Emmett exclaimed. "You should know him better than that by now."

 

"Well, if he's not going round blabbing to everyone we know, how do you know?" Brian retorted.

 

"I'm organising a party for his mom. Her office is putting on a goodbye thing for the oldest employee, and she recommended me. He really is the sweetest old man-" Brian felt his eyes glaze over as he listened to Emmett describe the party.

 

But Emmett didn't notice, his mind slipping back to finding Justin in Jennifer Taylor's living room.

 

He had gone over to her condo to discuss the party, but he had only been five minutes away when she called.

 

"I'm so sorry," she had apologised. "I'm stuck in traffic. There's a key under the doormat; just let yourself in, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

 

He'd gone in and headed straight for the kitchen, where they had always talked before, but he had heard the sounds of the TV coming from the living room. He figured he would just go and turn it off - well, alright he was nosy, but who could blame him? - but instead of an empty sitting room he had found Justin ensconced on the couch, staring at the TV and smoking a cigarette.

 

"Justin?" he had asked hesitantly when the boy didn't register his prescence. Showing no suprise Justin glanced up and then turned back to the TV.

 

"Hey," he had said, his voice scratchy. He barely seemed to notice Emmett at all.

 

"Justin, what happened?" he had asked, making his way over to him. "Where's Brian?"

 

"Oh, fucking the entire contents of the baths, probably," Justin said, waving his hands in the air. He grinned at Emmett mirthlessly. "He's celebrating."

 

"Celebrating? Why? You don't mean...."

 

"Yep. The good old - or should I say, good _new_ Brian is back."

 

"Baby, that's wonderful!" He had moved to hug Justin, but pulled back when he didn't respond. "But - why aren't you with him?"

 

Justin looked uneasy, showing emotion for the first time since Emmett had walked in. "None of your business," he said sharply, but Emmett looked at him reproachfully and Justin relented. "It's just, this isn't about me. It's about him. I won't go spreading this stuff about. It's about the worst thing I could do to him."

 

"Oh, sweetie. I know it's not my business, but I'm your friend and you need someone to talk to. I'm not looking for gossip. Not this time anyway. No one would blame you for telling me."

 

Justin took a deep breathe and nodded. "Last night he came home and we had this intense conversation. He told me that he loved me." Emmett looked as though he wanted to break in but Justin stopped him.

 

"I think it had something to do with the amnesia. He knew that his older self had learned to love me, but he didn't have the same hangups about telling me because in his mind the past was the future, so if everything was ok now, then it would be in five years. He managed to trust himself, and me. But then he woke up this morning with his memory back and he was horrified at what he had done."

 

He had stopped talking for moment, schooling his features to show no emotion. "I let him push me away again, after I promised myself I wouldn't."

 

"Oh, honey, why don't you just go talk to him? It's not as if you've never fought before."

 

"I want to Em, I really do. But I set him an ultimatum. I know, I know, that's about the stupidest thing you can do with Brian, back him into a corner, but I wasn't thinking. And if I go back now, he will never have the courage to admit his feelings. He has to come to me."

 

He rested his head on his hands. "I knew this would happen one day, I just didn't think it would be so soon." 

 

"What did you say to him?" Emmett hadn't been able to resist asking.

 

"Oh God," Justin groaned. "I said that he wasn't a real fag if he was too scared to admit to his feelings. I said I was too tired to keep doing all the fighting. I said he was as good as straight."

 

He had stared at Emmett, and Emmett had tried, he really had, to keep a straight face. But the very idea of a _straight_ Brian Kinney..... He burst out laughing. Justin had looked at him for moment and then slowly chuckled, joining Emmett in his laughter.

 

"Well?"

 

"Hmm?" Emmett drifted back to the present.

 

"I asked if the little twat looked like he was pining away for me." Brian said tersely.

 

Emmett suppressed a grin. "Not noticeably." Brian grunted. Emmett couldn't tell if he was happy or disappointed.

 

"Well, have fun propping up the bar." Brian turned to leave, clearly bored with the conversation, but Emmett grasped his arm. He had promised Justin that he wouldn't leave Brian alone tonight. Brian was looking at him questioningly.

 

"Stay awhile. Dance with me."

 

Brian snorted. " _You_ want to dance with _me_?" Emmett smiled, remembering when he has said similar words to Brian not that long ago. That night Brian had helped him. Now it was his turn to do the same for his friend.

 

"I'll tell you all the new gossip," he added. Brian didn't look impressed. "I know how much you like closeted celebrities," Emmett enticed without thinking. Brian looked mildly interested and finally followed Emmett back to the dance floor.

 

"So, who are you fucking now?" he asked the southern man sarcastically, expecting to be regaled with the tales of a minor C-list celebrity who was already half out of the closet. Emmett hesitated for a moment, then. Mentally apologizing to his lover, took a deep breath and spoke.

 

"Actually, I'm being fucked, several times a day I might add, by none other than the fabulous Drew Boyd."

 

"Yeah fucking right," Brian retorted, not believing a word of it.

 

"Fucking right is right," Emmett grinned. "You must have heard the rumors," he went on. Brian nodded, for once completely amazed. "Well, they're true. _And_ he's planning to come out, just for little ole me." They had been dancing quite closely in order to be able to hear each other over the pounding of the music, but now Brian drew back, looking the closest Emmett had seen him to horrified.

 

"Shit," he exclaimed.

 

"Well, not _just_ for me,"

 

"You're not serious!" Brian went on without giving any indication of having heard him.

 

"Completely," Emmett assured him.

 

"But he'll lose everything," Brian told the man in front of him. " _I_ will probably have to fire him."

 

"Brian!" Emmett gasped, looking hurt. "You wouldn't."

 

"I wouldn't have a choice," Brian told him grimly. They had both stopped dancing and Brian grasped Emmett's arm and lead him to the bar. He ordered two shots and two beers, and slammed the shot down his throat before he spoke again.

 

"Brown is $20 million account. If I refuse to fire Boyd they would fire me and fire him anyway. The same is true of every single endorsement he has. Of the team's manager and coach. He will lose everything." He picked up the second shot and handed to Emmett. "Is that what you want for him?"

 

Emmett threw back the shot, set the glass on the bar, and looked Brian in the eye. "I want him happy. He enjoys what he does, loves it even. But he won't be happy, won't have a real life, until he does this. If I thought leaving him would make his life better I would do it in a second. But sometimes leaving someone, or pushing them away, isn't the answer."

 

"Who are we talking about now?" Brian asked him quietly. "Me or you?"

 

"Why, just me of course," Emmett said quickly. "Why would I be talking about anything else?"

 

"Why indeed?" Brian murmured. "Well let's keep it that way, shall we?" His tone was mild, but something about it made the hairs rise up on the back of Emmett's neck. He gulped.

 

"Sure," he said weakly. "Not a problem."

 

"Good," Brian stated. Then he picked up his beer and regarded Emmett.

 

"What?"

 

"If you're really sure," Brian told him, "then good luck. To the both of you. Just don't...." he hesitated, "don't expect too much from a guy just out of the closet. And send him along to Kinnetic before the big event. I'll get Ted to make sure he comes out with as much as possible."

 

Emmett picked up his own bottle and clinked it against Brian's. "To the happiness of those we love." Brian looked at him for a moment and then raised his beer without speaking and drank.

 

"You've got balls," he told Emmett as he lowered the bottle from his lips.

 

"Honey," Emmett said, draping his arm around Brian's neck, "to be a real queen, to be a real fag, there ain't no other way."

 

Brian glared at Emmett, who quickly removed his arm.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Half stumbling under the weight of an almost comatose Brian, Emmett dug the key out of Brian's pants and unlocked the door, sliding it open. He silently thanked Justin, who had given him the alarm code earlier that day.

 

"If he gets half as drunk as I think he will," the blond had said, "you're gonna need it."

 

His arms already aching he half shoved, half carried, Brian across the floor, up the stairs and into bed. He quickly set about the task of stripping off his clothes, and then tucked him into bed just like his Momma did for him when he was a little boy.

 

He couldn't resist a small sneaky peek, however, and was pleased to find that Brian looked just as good as he had all those years ago on the day he'd fucked Emmett. It had been a long time ago, before he'd met Michael and become his room mate. He wasn't even sure Brian remembered, although the man would often say he'd fucked everyone in the room but Michael.

 

Yep, Brian was a gorgeous figure, but Emmett had Drew now, and he was quite happy with those ten inches, thank you very much.

 

He turned to leave, but as he did so Brian's hand shot out and caught his arm. "Don't go," he rasped.

 

"What was that, sweetie?" Emmett bent down so that he could hear Brian.

 

"Don't go," Brian said again, more clearly this time. "I need you here, Jus. Please stay." Emmett's heart melted and he felt a strong urge to cry as he carefully disentangled himself from Brian's grip.

 

"Justin's not here, Brian," he said soothingly. "It's me. It's Emmett."

 

"Emmett?" Brian's voice was stronger.

 

"Yes, that's me. You know, if you want him back, all you have to do is-"

 

"I don't want him back," Brian growled.

 

"But you just said-"

 

"I don't want him back. He can go fuck himself for all I care."

 

"Now go on, say it like you mean it," Emmett said, angry on Justin's behalf.

 

Brian's face twisted for a moment into a grimace of pain, but he quickly covered it up. Emmett wanted to hold him, but sensibly held back instead.

 

"Just go home, Honeycutt," Brian told him.

 

"Don't call me Honeycutt," Emmett chided automatically, but he wasn't really paying attention. This was perhaps the first time he had seen past the Kinney facade, and it just about broke his heart.

 

He got up to leave. He was nearly to the door when Brian called him back. "You tell anyone about tonight and I will rip your balls off."

 

"Tell anyone what?" Emmett said with out turning round, and, after setting the alarm, slipped out of the door.

 

Without a car he had to walk back to Deb's; there were no buses running that late, but it was a warm night for once and Emmett enjoyed the chance to clear his head and think.

 

When he reached the house it was so late that not even one hard headed reporter remained outside the door. Emmett would never regret his relationship with Drew, but he could wish that it could be slightly less - fraught with difficulties.

 

Quietly opening the door and slipping inside he made his way upstairs. He wasn't sure if Drew would be there or not; he had spent every night there so far since he had decided that he would come out, but Emmett had always been with him. Tonight he had called him to say that a friend needed help, and said that Drew should go to the house anyway, but his lover hadn't been sure.

 

Emmett breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door to his bedroom and saw a mound under the covers. He needed the presence of Drew tonight, needed to be sure that nothing was going to take him away.

 

He was in the middle of undressing when the light turned on. "Where were you?" Drew asked him in the deep gravelly voice he loved so much.

 

"I had to help that friend get home," Emmett explained. "Didn't have a car. Did I wake you?"

 

"No, it's alright. I couldn't sleep here without you."

 

"Aaww, how sweet," Emmett said as he finished undressing and slid into bed. "Well, there's nothing to worry about. I'm here, safe and sound."

 

"So, who was the friend?" Drew asked after a minute.

 

"Hmm? Oh, Brian, Brian Kinney."

 

"Kinney? The guy that does my advertising? Right, you said you knew him. He's pretty hot. Should I be jealous?"

 

"Of who - Brian? God no, we're friends - and Brian doesn't fuck his friends. He's just in this weird, on again, off again relationship. It's incredible, intense, and it hurts them both. A lot."

 

"So why do they keep doing it?"

 

"I don't think they have a choice. Brian was Justin's first, and he's slept with dozen's, maybe hundreds of guys since then, and none of them have compared. And Brian _has_ fucked hundreds of guys, before and since he met Justin, but Justin is the only one he cares about, the only one he ever did twice. It's them or nothing for those two."

 

"Wow."

 

For a moment there was silence until Drew spoke again.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"What? What do you mean, nothing's wrong!" Emmett's voice was a little too high, and a little too fast.

 

"Emmett. I know you."

 

"It's just - when you come out, how bad is it going to be?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"How much are you gonna lose?"

 

"I knew you only wanted me for my money," Dew joked, but became serious when Emmett glared at him. "I don't know. I could lose everything. I could get kicked off the team. Or everyone could accept it and life will go on as normal. It'll be somewhere in between those two. What brought this on?"

 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Emmett asked, ignoring the question.

 

Drew hesitated for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. I'll miss all the things I have now. And I don't know how I'll deal if I can't play anymore. But I'll miss this, what we have, more. Being with you is more natural to me even than playing football. And I'm not gonna give that up and go back to constantly living in fear, just because I'm scared now."

 

Emmett was silent for a moment. Then, "You should go and see Brian," he said. "He said he can make sure you keep as much as you can before the shit hits the fan."

 

"You told him?" Drew asked, sounding a little put out.

 

"He's a friend," Emmett reminded him gently. Then in a more jovial tone of voice, "Now do you think you can do something about this little problem I have," drawing Drew's hand down to his hard cock. "Or are you too tired?"

 

Drew laughed and rolled over on top of him. Emmett laughed himself, then moaned as Drew's hand wrapped around his aching hard on. 'Life is good' he thought. He just wished that Brian and Justin could be as happy as he was.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian collapsed onto his sofa. His day at work had been even more tiring than usual. Not only had he had to deal with both Cynthia and Ted's exclamations as they slowly realized that he had regained his memory, but he had felt oddly lethargic all day, as though he was carrying a huge weight around with him. No amount of coffee had managed to shake the feeling.

 

He knew what it was, he acknowledged. He wasn't stupid enough not to recognize the symptoms of Justin withdrawal. He'd lived through the several times before. After the bashing. After the Rage party. When Justin was in L.A.

 

Christ. He shook his head. They barely seemed to manage to get through a year without breaking up. It was amazing they had lasted as long as they had. But this was definitely the last time. Every other time, Justin had come back to him. Now he was supposed to go back to Justin.

 

Fuck that. He was Brian Kinney and Brian Kinney didn't go after anyone. A brief memory overtook his mind, of Justin yelling at him, telling him he broke all his rules for _him._ He shook his head, unnerved. He had thought the flashbacks had disappeared with the amnesia. Obviously he had been wrong.

 

He sighed, wondering if this was the way he would spend the rest of his life. Remembering the life he had had with Justin. Well, he was the master of repression. Turning his head his eye caught on the bottle of vodka balancing precariously on top of his well stocked liquor cabinet.

 

Heaving himself off the sofa he walked the short distance to the cabinet, grabbed the bottle and, forgoing a glass, pulled the cap of and poured the liquid down his throat.

 

He winced slightly at the burn of the alcohol then took another, more measured sip. Regarding first the almost full cabinet and the bottle in his hand he shrugged. There was no time like the present.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian was past drunk and well on his way to comatose. Slumped against the back of the sofa, his legs sprawled haphazardly across the hardwood floor, he tipped up the bottle in his hands, catching the last few drops on his tongue.

 

"All gone," he said mournfully, lowering the still upturned bottle to the floor where it joined the ever growing pile of empty bottles littering the loft's floor. "All gone," Brian said again, addressing the empty loft, and then looking around expectantly as though waiting for someone to answer him.

 

Then, "all gone," he said for a third time when he realized that no one was there.

 

"Of course," No One said to him. "If Justin was here you wouldn't be so drunk that you were listening to me."

 

"Fuck off," Brian growled and clambered to his feet, then stumbled towards the kitchen.

 

But No One followed. "If he were here," he said, "you wouldn't be this sad. And you'd stay sober enough that you could look at him. You never drank so much you couldn't enjoy him."

 

"I'd enjoy him if he were here," Brian mumbled, unsure of what was going on.

 

"Hah!" No One scoffed. "Enjoy him? Look at yourself; you couldn't even get it up!"

 

"Fuck off," Brian said again, but words were hesitant and slurred. His head was spinning and he didn't understand what was happening.

 

"Poor little Brian," the voice mocked. "He's lost his Justin and all because he was too much of a coward!"

 

"No!" Brian roared, but the No One kept talking.

 

"Because he's a little pansy," the voice whispered in his ear, sounding more and more familiar. "Never meant to be a family man, Sonny Boy," it rasped, and it was his father. Brian turned and the man was standing right in front of him.

 

Jack came right at him and gripped his throat and Brian was powerless, couldn't fight, just like when he was a child. His father pushed him the ground, his hand still wrapped around Brian's neck and forced his legs apart with his knees, so that he was lying on top of him. He was held up only by his chokehold on Brian, the weight crushing his windpipe so that he could barely breathe.

 

"You're gonna pay, Sonny Boy," Jack growled, and pulled back his hand to -

 

Brian woke up slumped against the back of the sofa, the almost empty bottle of whiskey still clutched in his hand. He looked at it for a moment and began to laugh, a small, bitter chuckle which gradually became full blown hysterical bouts of laughter that echoed around the loft.

 

Suddenly the wind slammed something into the window, shocking Brian into silence. Looking around he surveyed his home, the evidence of his success, and wondered why in this place of worship to his own accomplishment, both professional and personal, he still felt empty.

 

He was suddenly struck by the memory of the day he had woken up on the floor surrounded by bottles similar to the ones which now lay on the floor. Tonight was certainly similar to the one which had proceeded that day. Justin walking out. Him drinking himself into oblivion.

 

Something nagged at his mind. It wasn't quite the same. Something had.... his mother had turned up and said something about, about his father and he'd.... Fuck. He couldn't remember.

 

But he could remember all the dreams he'd had about his dad since the whole thing had started, even if he hadn't want to admit as much to Justin.  At least part of them. And his mother had mentioned Jack. Everything was leading back to his father.

 

Brian's first instinct was to turn to Justin, and for a moment he even considered calling him. His hand reached for the phone, but he stopped himself, pulling back. If Justin didn't want him then he could go fuck himself.

 

Grabbing his coat he ran out of the loft, forgetting to set the alarm in his haste.

 

He drove through every red light on his way to the cemetery. He knew he shouldn't be driving this drunk but there was nothing left he could think of to make him care. No one to miss him if something went wrong.

 

He screeched to a halt outside the cast iron gate and practically leapt out of the car, completely disregarding the wind and driving rain. He had managed to get caught in one of the last of the winter storms.

 

Without a care for his designer shoes or the slippery metal he climbed over the now chained gate and surveyed the cemetery. At night it was almost impossible to tell what it was and the rain helped to conceal the shape of the grave stones. Gravel crunched under his feet as he walked along the path that made its way through the various graves, from the oldest closest to the church to the more modern set so far away they were almost invisible from the gate in the light of day.

 

Although he'd only been there twice before Brian's feet took him automatically and unerringly to his father's grave. The gravel changed to the squish of water laden grass as Brian moved to the foot of the grave, sheltered by a grove of trees on the edge of the enclosure.

 

The first thing he was aware of was a lack of noise. He had been so concentrated on getting here that he had barely noticed the storm raging around him, but the moment he was somewhat undercover and the noise abated somewhat, its lack was so obvious that he couldn't help but notice it.

 

With the return of this awareness came the awareness of the rest of his surroundings; he began to shiver in his waterlogged clothes, wrapping his rain soaked coat more closely around him to try and conserve heat. Without gloves his hands felt like blocks of ice and he wasn't sure that he could feel his ears and nose.

 

Coming back to his senses helped to alleviate the mad impulse that had been rushing through his veins since he left the loft; he was no longer sure why he had come here, what exactly it was that he had to do, only that he had had to come.

 

Feeling uncomfortable and a little foolish he shifted, wincing as he heard the water squelching inside of his $500 shoes. 'You had to come here,' he said to himself. 'Why?'

 

Closing his eyes he ran through everything that had brought him to this place. His mother's visit to the loft where she accused him of being a terrible son. The recurring dreams that always seemed to blur right at the end, although he could remember every other detail in perfect clarity. The fear he had felt at the idea of letting Jack anywhere near his son.

 

What had Jack done? What had Joan said to him? "Your father." The words echoed inside his head. "Your father. Your father always....always.... Your father always...." His head was spinning, he felt dizzy, as though he was going to fall, but he couldn't force his mother's voice out of his head.

 

"Your father always loved you."

 

The memories slammed into his mind so suddenly that he really did fall, landing half on top of his father's grave. It was as unlike the memories which had seeped back into his mind during his amnesia as a tickle was to an elephant standing on you.

 

As the memories flashed in front of his eyes he understood, with dreadful clarity, why he had blocked out every memory of ever being loved by a lover. His father beating him, hitting and kicking him, things he had and would always remember: things that taught him important lessons.

 

But the end of every fight, the part that Brian never remembered. His father's face leering above him, or his alcohol laden breath hot and disgusting across the back of Brian's neck.

 

His father forcing his way inside him. So much pain, tearing through him like fire. "You'll pay for what you did to me, Sonny Boy." "Have to learn your lesson. You're not a sissy." "It's for your own good." One pathetic excuse after another for what he was doing to Brian - and Brian believed him.

 

Pain, duller now as he pulls out, sticky residue still leaking out of him. And out of Brian. And then the murmur as he brushed Brian's hair out of his sweaty face, covers him over with duvet, turns out the light and leaves. The murmur that goes with the only affection he has ever felt from his father, as he leaves the scene of his crime.

 

"I love you."

 

Brian retched, all the alcohol in his system helping his body to rid itself of any remnants of food. He kept vomiting until all he was bringing up was bile and his throat felt scraped raw, but he still felt sick. He pulled back and wiped his mouth, wishing he could do something about the sour taste on his tongue. He gave a short snort of laughter as he saw that some of the vomit had sprayed over the gravestone, then pulled back abruptly, scared by the sound of his own voice.

 

He stared at the gravestone for another minute, then abruptly stood and fled the cemetery. He threw himself into the car and fumbled to turn the ignition on as quickly as possible. He pushed his foot down on the pedal and the car pulled away from the curb with a squeal.

 

He drove without knowing where he was going, intent on trying, for a third time, to push the memories out of his mind. Even if that meant forgetting who he was entirely, it was better than this.

 

He never heard the sirens.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

The shrill ring of the phone pierced Justin's sleep fogged brain; at first he thought it was the alarm and slapped at the offending article, then rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. After all, it wasn't as if there was anything to get up for. But the noise continued and he sat up, bleary eyed and tousled haired, and checked the clock beside him as he reached for the phone.

 

It was almost four thirty in the morning.

 

"Hello?" he said cautiously into the phone, when the caller ID came up as blank.

 

"Justin," the all too familiar voice on the end of the phone said abruptly, and Justin's stomach lurched alarmingly; he couldn't quite believe that Brian had actually called him. The hope was dashed seconds later.

 

"I need you to go to the loft, get my emergency money, and come down to the Police Station near..." his voice faltered for a second, but then strengthened and continued, "near to the cemetery."

 

"Brian? What-" Justin tried to ask, but Brian cut him off.

 

"Would you please just do it? I need it here now." Justin heard muffled voices on the other end of the phone, and then the line went dead.

 

"Brian?" he asked again tentatively, even though he knew it would do no good, because he had to try and get a handle on reality. When no one replied he put the phone down, scrambled out of bed and dragged on his clothes.

 

Scribbling a quick note to his mother, he grabbed the keys to her car and quietly left the house. On the drive to

the loft he tried to figure out what was going on. Was Brian in trouble? If he needed money that meant he needed to be bailed out, or he would have gone for it himself. But why hadn't he called Michael? Or Ted or Cynthia even, the threat of losing their jobs would have been enough to keep them quiet. Well, Ted, anyway.

 

He pulled up outside the loft and quickly went in and collected the money, moving on auto pilot, his mind still whirring with thoughts. What had Brian done to end up at a police station? And why near his father's grave? The amnesiac Brian might have needed closure with his father, but the Brian of now had never shown any such inclinations. That had to be the cemetery Brian had meant. They had certainly never visited any others.

 

Justin was obliged to break off from his thoughts when he neared the cemetery. He didn't know the part of Pittsburgh it was located in well and he had to concentrate and think back to where the police station had been. He could remember passing it but where - then he recognized the street he was on. The building was just one block over.

 

Justin took his time finding a parking space and going into the station. He needed to calm down; with his mind spinning he was no good to Brian at all. And no matter what had happened between them, he would be there for him now.

 

He approached the desk with some trepidation. "I'm here to bail out Brian Kinney," he said cautiously. After the Stockwell fiasco he disliked dealing with the police, whether they were homophobic or not. It was just too weird. Besides, for all he knew, they might be bearing a grudge.

 

However, the officer barely glanced at him, just nodded to another policeman who disappeared behind a door. Justin glimpsed a long corridor of cells before the door swung shut, obscuring his vision.

 

"$300," the officer told him, and took the money Justin offered him, giving him in return a small slip of paper and a plastic bag which contained Brian's lighter, a pack of cigarettes and Brian's wallet. Justin stood around for a few moments more, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He was just about to ask the officer what the hold up was when the door opened again to reveal Brian.

 

Justin had to stop himself from gasping. Brian had never looked so - unlike himself. His skin was a pasty white and his lips looked grey. His hair hung lankly around his face, and his whole stance was slumped over, as though he couldn't bear to look at the world, or show himself to anyone. This was not, could not be Brian.

 

"Justin." The artist had been so shocked by Brian's appearance that he hadn't noticed Carl standing behind him.

 

"What happened?" he asked, moving forwards and gripping Brian's hands, as though the contact might convince him that he was real. Brian tried to draw his hands away, but made no response when Justin hung on. It was Carl who filled him in.

 

"Arrested for driving under the influence and resisting questioning by a police officer," he told Justin. "I don't know what happened, but apparently he was weaving all over the road, and didn't stop for the sirens. When the squad cars finally surrounded him he just sat there. Wouldn't say a damn thing. So they brought him in. He's lucky I was on duty or he wouldn't have got bail till tomorrow. As it is he'll have to pay a fine to get the car back."

 

Justin listened to Carl's account with growing amazement. This didn't sound anything like Brian. The man drove all the time when he was drunk. It never seemed to make a difference. And as for just sitting there - "He hasn't said a word?" he asked anxiously.

 

"Just that phone call to you. I don't what's wrong with him. You'd better get him home." He hesitated, and then went on. "He's supposed to come in tomorrow, but as long as you keep an eye on him I don't suppose it would hurt for his paperwork to get lost in the shuffle for a few days. Just make sure you get him in after that or I won't be the only one in trouble."

 

Justin swallowed and nodded. "Thanks Carl," he nodded, and then began to pull Brian out of the station to the car. Outside, his mind was on overdrive again. After everything, the amnesia, and then their fight, what else could have happened? He knew Brian had a tendency to go off the rails when the two of them weren't together, but this was something else entirely. This was - Justin didn't know what this was.

 

He pulled open the car door, and carefully maneuvered Brian inside, before getting in himself.

 

"What about the 'vette?"

 

Justin jumped at the sound of Brian's voice. "Jesus Christ, Brian! You scared the shit out of me." Brian regarded him with calm, distant eyes. "They're keeping it for now," Justin told him finally. "We'll come and pick it up in a few days.” Brian nodded and then turned his head to look out of the window. Justin looked at him for a moment longer then shrugged his shoulders and turned the ignition. He'd figure out after he got Brian home.

 

Justin accompanied Brian into the elevator, and opened the loft door for him. His heart sank at what he found, although he had been half expecting it. Empty bottles littered the floor and the room was in total disarray. He sighed, and carefully guided Brian to the bed. He undressed him and put him to bed like a child, without Brian saying so much as a word, or doing anything to help or hinder him.

 

Moving as quietly as he could, in the hopes that Brian had gone to sleep, Justin picked up the empty bottles, and set about putting the place back to rights. He managed to lose himself entirely in the simple rhythmic movements of travelling from living room to kitchen and back again with the trash, or setting one thing after another in its proper place. The movement stopped him from thinking.

 

By the time he had finished it was almost morning, with the first strands of light starting to peek over the horizon. Glancing over at Brian it seemed as though he had indeed fallen asleep. Justin set the alarm and then debated what he should do. He felt bone weary and wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with Brian. And every fiber of him was screaming not to leave his lover alone in this state. But Justin knew that he couldn't stay. Not unless Brian asked him to. If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave in the morning. Wouldn't be able to leave full stop. And as much as he wanted that, Brian had to ask him to stay, had to show him, and himself, that he wanted Justin there. Otherwise nothing would ever change.

 

He got to the door and was about to slide it open when he heard a muffled noise coming from the bed. He hesitated, and then turned and walked towards Brian.

 

"What?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake him up if it had after all only been a sleepy mumble, something the man was barely conscious of.

 

But, "stay," Brian said, still soft, but clear enough for Justin to hear standing at the bottom of the steps. Justin's heart swelled, and turned over in his chest. Brian had finally fought for him, had asked him to stay! But as much as he wanted to go to him, to hold him, he still couldn't. Not yet.

 

"Why?" He made his way slowly up the steps, and looked down at Brian. The older man looked up at him through confused, wounded eyes, and although he didn't understand why, Justin thought he had never seen Brian look so - vulnerable.

 

"Because I need you to," Brian managed to get out. Justin hesitated again, and for a moment Brian was scared that he was going to leave anyway. Justin couldn't leave. If he really couldn't block out these memories again, he needed Justin to help him survive. Justin nodded, and Brian exhaled with relief.

 

He kept his eyes on the blond as he undressed; scared to let him out of his sight in case he disappeared. Then Justin was in bed, wrapped around him, so warm, so there, so truly loving that just for a moment Brian could pretend that being loved didn't hurt.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian was entangled in a warm body, surrounded by smooth pale skin, and the delicious smell of - Justin. He was in his own comfortable bed, and he was with his beautiful lover and everything was - wrong. Because Justin shouldn't be here. Justin had left. And everything was wrong because - because..... Brian felt sick as the memory of the previous evening rushed back, and he stumbled into the bathroom just in time to retch bile into the toilet bowl. There was still nothing in his stomach, and the bitter taste almost made him gag again, but he managed to stop himself from vomiting for a second time.

 

He laughed weakly to himself. Years of training himself out of a gag reflex and he could still barely stop himself from being sick. He rose to his feet and heard footsteps come up behind him. Justin.

 

"What are you doing here?" he said without turning around. He had meant to come out as harsh, biting, but instead he only sounded confused. Justin pressed a kiss into the side of his neck and Brian flinched away.

 

"You asked me to stay," the blond told him.

 

Brian chuckled again, bitterly. "Did I?" he asked, talking to himself more than Justin. "Well it just goes to show how stupid I am. I give myself amnesia, and then negate the only good effect it had. I don't want to hurt you, but I drag you back here." He finally turned to Justin who was watching him warily. "I think in that case you'd better go. I don't need you right now." His voice was eerily calm.

 

Justin didn't buy it for a minute. "Bullshit," he snapped out. "You need me just as much now as you did last night. And you should know by now that you can throw me out as many times as you like, but for as long as l want to, I'll keep coming back. Last night you had the courage to finally do what's good for you. So you're gonna sit down, stop being such a pussy, and tell me what the fuck is going on."

 

Brian ignored him, and walked into the bedroom. Justin followed. "What the fuck is going on with you?” he asked as Brian get dressed, not bothering to attempt to do the same. "Last night you get arrested, call me to bail you out, ask me to stay because you _need_ me to, and then this morning it's like, poof, it never happened. This isn't like you, Bri- hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" he exclaimed as Brian walked across the loft and began to open the door.

 

Brian turned to him, told him "to work," in the same creepily even tone of voice, then walked out. Justin

followed him.

 

"No, you are fucking well not," he hissed, and grabbing his arm, dragged him bodily back into the loft. To his surprise, Brian followed easily. Justin pulled him across the floor until they came to the living area, and then shoved him down onto the sofa.

 

"What. Happened. Last. Night?" He growled out the words, not really feeling angry, but unsure of how else to get through to Brian.

 

Brian looked up at him almost flirtatiously from under his long lashes. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, as though preparing to share an important secret.

 

"Yes," Justin huffed out, somewhat mollified now that he seemed to be getting somewhere, but still confused by Brian's behavior.

 

"Are you sure?" Brian's voice was childlike, almost shy.

 

Justin's patience was rapidly running out. "Damnit, Brian!" he exclaimed and threw his hands up in the air.

 

Brian began to talk. "Last night," he said, in the tone of voice he used when reading to Gus, "I had a dream. My old man was here, standing right in front of me, as though it really was five years ago and he wasn't dead. He came at me, forced me down on the ground. He was going to hit me, but I woke up."

 

As Brian spoke Justin's expression changed from one of frustration to one of worry; now that his lover had finally decided to tell him what was wrong any animosity he felt towards him drained away.

 

"I realized," Brian went on, "that it all seemed to lead back to him. All the dreams I'd had when my memory was out the window. Even my Mom talked about him when she came round. I didn't tell you that did I? She was here the night it happened. She said something, and it made me remember something I'd blocked out years ago. I blocked it out again."

 

Justin shook his head, trying to understand. What Brian was saying didn't seem to make any sense.

 

"But last night I made the stupid mistake of going to visit him. Thought that if I could talk to him face to stone as it were, I might get rid of the dreams. Well, I guess I got rid of them 'cause I remembered everything again. Do you know, Sunshine, what my dear old Dad, used to do to me?" he asked, a strange smile curving his lips.

 

"He used to fuck me."

 

Justin recoiled in horror, hoping that he'd heard Brian wrong.

 

"What?"

 

Brian laughed. "I know, I never would have believed it either. But it's all up here now." He tapped his forehead. "I can remember every single time he had to punish me. Had to teach me a lesson. No wonder," he chuckled, "he was so angry when he found out I was gay. Probably scared that he'd made me that way."

 

Then he was laughing, laughing so much it hurt and then there were tears pouring down his face and Justin was holding him. Holding him so tightly and Brian wondered how he could bear to touch him now that he knew, but who cared it was enough that he was there and oh God his father had raped him. His father. Who may not have been up for any Father of the Year Awards, but had never been that bad. His father, who really had taught him that love hurts.

 

Justin held onto Brian as tightly as he could. His mind was reeling, and he felt sick to his stomach. If he felt this bad, he wondered, how much worse must it be for Brian? His fingers dug into Brian's flesh as he realized that this really might be the thing that broke them apart.

 

Always before he had known that nothing could. Before and after the bashing when Brian was being an asshole, even during Ethan, he had always known that Brian would take him back. Even when he threw him out when he had had cancer he had known that Brian would take him back if he just pushed hard enough. This time he wasn't sure.

 

He thought back to the uncertainty of the month when Brian hadn't remembered him. Now the whole thing seemed like some big joke, something they would be able to laugh at together. Everything was laughable really, compared to this. Justin refused, absolutely refused to let it tear them apart, and clung on to that refusal with all his heart.

 

Finally the sobs that wracked Brian's body wore down, and Justin was reminded of the night Joan Kinney had turned up, and he had held Brian and then Brian had made love to him. Well that certainly wasn't going to happen tonight. He kept rocking Brian in his arms, hoping to provide some measure of comfort without crossing the new lines which must surely be there.

 

When Brian reached up and kissed him he drew back in shock. Brian recoiled from him. "I'm sorry," the brunette whispered. "I'll understand if you don't, if you don't want me. Now," he finished awkwardly.

 

Justin stared down at him in horror. This was Brian stripped completely of all his defenses, not by choice, because he knew that he was safe with Justin, but because they had been ruthlessly ripped away from him.

 

"No," he rushed to reassure his lover. "No, that's not it, Brian; I will always, always, want you. I have never stopped loving you, and I have never stopped wanting you, and I never will. I was just - surprised. I didn't think you'd....." He trailed off, not wanting to mention anything that could bring up bad memories.

 

"I want you," Brian told him. "I need you." Then he reached up and claimed Justin's lips with his own.

 

Justin fell back slightly and immediately Brian was on top of him, ravaging his lips. Justin was slightly scared by his lover's sudden intensity, and not at all sure that this was the right thing for him right now, but he sensed that Brian needed him, needed to be in control, just needed this, and he let him.

 

Brian was hasty, more rushed than Justin had ever known him to be before. He was still careful, reaching for the lube that was stashed everywhere around the loft to prepare Justin, but the younger man stopped him, knowing that Brian wanted it hard and fast. Brian put his fingers to Justin's mouth and the blond sucked them in, never taking his eyes off of Brian. Brian groaned and then tore his fingers from Justin's mouth, reaching around Justin and thrusting two fingers straight into him.

 

Almost immediately he pulled out and turned Justin around, then pulled his own pants down just enough to pull out his cock and roll a condom onto it. Then he rested the latex covered organ against Justin's hole, nudging his cheeks apart, silently asking for permission. Justin pushed back, and that was all Brian needed; with a shout he pushed all the way in.

 

Justin yelled out at the pleasure pain of it, but when Brian checked his movements to make sure if he was alright Justin wouldn't let him stop, kept pushing back and squeezing his anal muscles until Brian was driven into frenzy, and was back in control of their fuck.

 

Justin groaned. As scary as everything was right now, with Brian inside him, filling him completely with each thrust, so hot, so dirty, so _good,_ he knew everything was going to be alright. Brian reached around him and roughly pulled at his cock; the stimulation was so great that Justin was coming within moments, Brian following soon after, collapsing onto Justin as he did.

 

He lay there for a few moments, then, with a groan, pulled carefully out and disposed of the condom. Doing up his pants he turned to Justin looking guilty. "Are you-"

 

"I'm fine, Brian," Justin told him firmly. His whole body felt sore, and his ass was burning, but it felt so good to feel like that that there was no way he was going to let Brian feel bad about it.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"What for?" Justin asked him gently.

 

"For being so.... I shouldn't have but I needed, I had to be......"

 

"In control," Justin finished for him.

 

"Just like him," Brian said in a whisper. "That's what it was, wasn't it? Him needing to be in control. And then every time when he was done, he'd tell me that he loved me. It was the only time he ever did."

 

Justin got to his feet, ignoring his protesting muscles and took Brian by the shoulders. "Brian, listen to me," he said, looking him straight in the eye. "What your father did was to you was wrong. But it was wrong because you were his son, and a child, and you didn't want it. I am not your son, I'm not a child, and I wanted it. I always have and always will do. You have never fucked me, or any single other person when they didn't want to."

 

"But," Brian started to say, but Justin cut him off.

 

"You haven't, you know you haven't! You couldn't! After the prom, when I wouldn't let you fuck me, you never tried to make me. You asked me if I was sure before you would. You made sure it was alright. And you did it because you loved me. What your father did was not love, Brian. Don't compare love to that."

 

Brian wrapped his arms around Justin, and thought about the heart stopping moment when he had thought Justin didn't want him anymore. Thought about how scared he had been when he thought he might have heard him. Thought about the Prom, when he had tried to show Justin he cared and Justin had almost died. The fiddler, who had told Justin he loved him, and had hurt him. About Justin who was still here, still holding him together when he had every right to run and never look back.

 

How had he been brave enough to tell him, he thought, just a few days ago? Now he was terrified. Terrified that saying something like that would get them both of them hurt in the long run. But stronger was his belief that Justin was there for him. Justin who would never hurt him the way his father had done, who might hurt him but would never mean to. And who would always be there to make the hurt stop.

 

He crushed him to his chest. "I love you," he breathed, so softly he wasn't that Justin had heard it until he felt the body in his arms stiffen. For a moment he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake, but then Justin drew back with a smile on his face. A sorrowful, watery smile, but a smile none the less.

 

"I know," he said softly. "I was just waiting for you to realize it."

 

"That line," Brian told him, "is one of the cheesiest I've ever heard. Try again."

 

Justin managed a full blown Sunshine smile. "I love you too, Brian," he said, and guided him towards the bed. He gently undressed him, and then quickly turned off all the lights in the loft, apart from the glowing plate above Brian's bed. After a quick call to Cynthia to tell her that Brian wouldn't be coming in today he rejoined his lover on the bed.

 

Justin leaned down and kissed Brian. "I want you inside me," he mumbled into Brian's mouth.

 

Brian stilled and then, "are you sure?"

 

Justin smiled, and then, gratefully, because his ass really was sore, said the line, playing out the scene. "Just, go slow."

 

Brian smiled. "Just like the first time." Then he turned Justin on his side and made love to him. For the first time again.

 


	5. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin deal with Brian's words, and his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains references to and descriptions of, sexual abuse of a child.

Brian shifted in his seat, squirming slightly against the soft leather. As he concentrated on the boards in front of him he began to tap the pencil he was holding against the desk. When he caught what he was doing he sighed. It had been three days since his revelation at his father's grave. Three days of constant nervous energy, of nightmares, and flashbacks, and trying to do anything to stop himself from thinking. The only thing that made sense anymore was Justin. He had finally put all his faith into love, and it hadn't fallen through. At a time in his life where he felt weaker than he ever had before, a part of him was far stronger as well.

But still, he had to get through each torturously slow day, get back to the real world, his real life, and just try not to think about it. A knock came at his door and he looked up with an expression of irritation on his face. He had told Cynthia that he did not want to be disturbed. A blond head peeked through the door.

"What?" he barked out.

"Sorry," she apologized, "but he said you wanted to see him. And I think you do." She disappeared, only to be replaced by the impressive figure of Drew Boyd. The football star's face was nervous but he walked confidently over to Brian's desk.

"I have an interview in a week," he stated, "in which I plan to come out. Emmett said that you might be able to help me.

Brian leaned back in his chair. "So," he said slowly, "big football player's finally decided to be a _real_ man and come out of the closet." He heard Justin's voice echoing in his mind, telling him what it took to be a real fag, but he pushed it away. He was finding it all too easy these days to push away unwanted memories. 'Practice makes perfect,' he thought sarcastically.

He got up and moved around to the front of his desk, Drew watching him warily. Brian found the other man's height to be a little disconcerting, and leaned back against his desk, preferring that if he had to look up at Drew, it would be his choice that he did so. He looked impassively at the football player.

The taller man shifted uncomfortably. "So what if I have?" he mumbled. "Wouldn't have thought _you'd_ have a problem with it."

"Why not?" Brian asked with a humorous quirk to his voice, raising his eyebrows. "It only means having to fire you, then work out a whole other fucking campaign with another model. One who'll actually stick around," he finished harshly.

"But-" Drew protested, then stood with his mouth open, unsure of what to say, and not liking it. Brian smirked. Didn't matter what happened. He was always in charge of the situation.

"What?" he said. "You thought because we were all fags together I'd be so proud of you for coming out and risking everything you have? Doesn't work that way with me, Boyd. I'm in it for me."

Drew's mouth snapped closed in a harsh line, and his face pulled together in a grimace. "Emmett told me to come here," he said finally. "But if all you want is to play mind games then..." He trailed off and turned to leave when Brian stopped him.

"Wait," he said, grinding the word out between his teeth. Drew paused. "You sure about this?" Brian questioned him. "You sure he's worth it?"

"I'm not doing it for him, I'm doing it for me," Drew informed him. "But if I was doing it for him, then yeah, he'd be worth it." Brian nodded and stood up, turning away from the other man. Drew looked at him for another second, but when Brian walked back around to his side of the desk a small look of despair rose up in his face before he quickly squashed it, and made to leave once more. The sound of Brian's voice stopped him, but the other man wasn't talking to him.

Brian pushed the intercom system on his desk. "Ted, get up here," he snapped. He didn't mean to sound quite so irritable, although it was always good to keep his employees on their toes, but he did have a lot of work to do. Running on almost no sleep he needed all of his concentration on the job.

Drew looked oddly touched, but said nothing, for which Brian was supremely grateful. He couldn't deal with a happy no brain jock bawling all over him at the moment. Ted hurried into the room, looking as tired as Brian felt. "Ted, you remember Mr. Boyd. He's decided to come out, and we're going to have a look at what we can do to help him."

To his surprise Ted showed no sign of shock, but instead clapped Drew on the shoulder and said, "it's about time. And I know it's hard, but as long as you have him, it'll be worth it. You've made him so happy."

Drew eyes widened slightly, but he otherwise remained as stoic as before and after a moment nodded his head and said, "Thank you."

Brian reached up and rubbed the ridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache that refused to go away. It was only midmorning and the day had already been too long. "There's only so much we can do today," he told Drew. "We have the contract that you have with Brown in our files, but we're going to need to see as many of your other contracts as we can, along with the details of your finances."

He pulled out Drew's file, which he had had waiting since he made the offer to Emmett to help him. "This one is pretty simple. They can and probably will fire you, I can't stop that. And there are no laws and nothing in the contract saying that they can't fire you because of your sexuality. However, if they fire you because of 'reasons personal to the contractee’, which _does_ include your sexuality, you get a big fat payoff, which will help to soften the blow of any other loss of income."

Drew looked a little dazed, but nodded along with what Brian was saying. The man wandered for a moment how much of it was sinking in, not having a very high opinion of football players, but he managed to keep himself from saying it to his face. He might not think much of Emmett's taste, but right now, he owed him.

"If you speak to Cynthia on your way out she'll set up a time for you to bring in everything else Ted will need to see. Just make sure it's soon. We don't have a lot of time."

Drew nodded once more, and was about to leave when Brian asked him again, "Is it worth it? Is _he_ worth it?"

This time Drew didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Suddenly, Brian understood the kind of faith Drew was putting in Emmett. It was the same kind he put in Justin every time the artist held him when he woke up from nightmares, the same kind Justin put in him when he said 'I love you.'

"Aren't you worried," he asked the footballer, "about the way your fans will see you? One moment you're a strong man, a hero, the next you're some sissy faggot?"

"I will be stronger in doing this," Drew said quietly, "than I ever will be in hiding myself and kicking a ball." Brian's estimation of him quickly rose up a few notches.

"Goodbye," he said quietly. He tried to get back to work once Ted and Drew had left, but his mind kept going back to what Drew had said. Was it really his strength, not his weakness, which allowed him to cry in Justin's arms? He was getting better, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue to fall apart in front of the man he loved. With every time it happened the fear that Justin would no long want him grew greater. What would a strong, brave, beautiful person like him want with such a scarred damaged weakling?

<<<<>>>>

Brian and Justin were drifting apart. Actually, Brain felt as though he were drifting away from everyone around him. At work, although he had always given his best, given his all, and he'd never been one to fraternize with his employees, he rarely emerged from his office. He ignored Ted and Cynthia and spoke to everyone else only to give them terse instructions or yell at them.

He felt bad after reducing an intern to tears, and gave everyone from the interns up an unexpected bonus, but the next morning he came in fuming after another night fraught with dreams and yelled at the very same intern when she tried to thank him.

He avoided Emmett and Lindsay like the plague, knowing that they would sense something was wrong and actively encouraged the distance that had grown between him and Michael, taunting him about his faux hetero lifestyle to the point where his best friend would no longer even speak to him. Not that Michael didn't make it easy. He seemed to have decided that any way of life other than his own wasn't worth having. Melanie would never voluntarily go near him anyway, and he simply passed on all the visits to the diner and Sunday dinner's he was used to having.

The only person he really missed was Gus. But he couldn't see him; it was too hard. Since the minute his son had been born Brian had been terrified to be in any way responsible for another life, and had vowed to never treat his son the way his father had treated him. But it hadn't stopped him thinking about it, worrying about every second of every minute he was with him.

But now.... he had gone to see Lindsay, for some reason needing to see his son after the Drew Boyd encounter, knowing that here was one person who would never see him as weak. But as soon as he had walked in and seen his son playing on the floor his imagination had grabbed hold of his mind, and wouldn't let him go. Images flooded his brain- all the things his father had done to him, all the ways he had hurt him, only now it was him hurting his son that way, forcing his way into Gus's small body. He had heard his own voice say, "I love you, Sonny Boy." Bile had risen in his throat and he hadn't even tried to make it to the bathroom, but thrown up all over Lindsay's floor.

Afterwards he had said that he must have a 24-hour bug, and used it as an excuse to get away, not wanting to infect Gus. He hadn't been back, despite the repeated messages from Lindsay saying that Gus missed him. He was terrified. If his own father could really do those things to him, then what was to stop him from doing the same to Gus? Most abusers were supposed to have been abused themselves. A cycle of pain. The thought still made him feel physically ill, but he could not shake it from his head. For a week after seeing Gus he had not slept unless he was in a drug or alcohol induced coma, and survived at work on coffee and a couple of hours of sleep.

Justin had said nothing, just quietly cleaned up his mess, put him to bed, and looked after him. It made Brian want to scream. God knows he didn't want Justin to do anything else, would have resented Justin for trying to get inside his head, but he hated to be so dependent on him. To show him that kind of weakness was something he did out of necessity, and every time it happened he wished he could stop it. He had finally accepted that to love was strength and had shown Justin that strength - and then belied his own actions with this ridiculous show.

At first, despite the horrors of what had happened, both of the two had been so optimistic about their future. Brian had woken up later that same day with a feeling of conflict, two different emotions warring within him, although at first he could not remember what either was attributed to. The pain hit him first, as it had done that morning, as the memories crowded into his mind once again; although this time he did not have to run for the nearest toilet. But then Justin had sighed and turned over in his sleep, snuggling into Brian's side and the happiness had reared up inside his chest.

Yesterday, at the weakest and most vulnerable moment of his life Brian had had the courage to turn it into strength, to tell Justin that he loved him, and the euphoria had sung through his veins. Brian had fucked him, and won back his normally unshakeable control, and then he had made love to him, showing him all the depth of his feeling. It had been terrifying, but he had finally understood the power to be found in giving someone else control.

Always he had felt as if he were falling with Justin, as though he loved him in spite of himself, and so was not in control. In deciding to take control of his feelings and admit them openly he had won that control back. And to see the control those words had over Justin - he had received more power from saying those three little words than from all the times he refused to say them. And right then he had wanted to feel it again.

And he knew just how he was going to do that, he had thought as Justin slowly awoke, blinking sleepily up at him with crystal blue eyes. Brian had said nothing, but reached down to stroke Justin's morning hard on with gentle fingers, lowering his head so that his mouth was almost touching his lover's lips, but was just out of reach.

"I love you," he had mumbled, just before reaching down to give him the smallest of kisses, at the same time as squeezing his cock just that little bit harder. He had chuckled quietly when Justin's mouth attempted to follow his back up, but he had pulled too far away. "I love you," he whispered again and was pleased to hear Justin gasp and see his eyes turn a darker blue; he could turn the kid on more with those words that he could with his hand on his cock.

Right then though, he planned to tell him in other ways. Releasing Justin's dick and ignoring the whimper the boy gave at the loss of contact he began to relearn his lover's body, determined to touch every spot he could. His lips whispered over Justin's collarbone, barely touching him but alerting the other man to his presence. He had returned over the same path, this time snaking his tongue out between his lips to taste the saltiness of Justin's skin. Justin groaned. Brian had made his way up the blonde’s neck, blowing gently on the skin and watching in fascination as the tiny blond hairs stood out, creating goose bumps, but never actually touching him.

Looking at the perfect Cupid's bow lips flushed almost red with blood the brunette had not been able to resist, but had captured them in a searing kiss, thrusting his tongue into Justin's mouth in an unconscious imitation of what his dick wanted to be doing right then. He lost himself in the heat, the sweetness until Justin had groaned and thrust up against him, his hard dick caught between their two bodies.

Brian pulled back and laughed at the frustrated expression on the blonde’s face. "Uh uh, Sunshine, not yet," he had admonished gently. He had begun to make his way down his body again, this time licking a path from Justin's ear to his left nipple. He had taken the hardened nub between his teeth and pulled on it gently, careful to apply not more pressure than necessary. He released it for a moment then bit down hard, causing Justin to arch up and groan out his appreciation. Brian quickly soothed the bud with his tongue, and then had moved from the abused nub of flesh to the other, his right hand coming up to play with the free nipple.

Justin was no longer groaning, but his breathing was coming in short pants, and when Brian looked up he could see him biting his lip, trying to stay in control. Right then though, he had wanted Justin as far out of control as he could be. He would show him how much he loved him, and claim his heart, body and soul in return.

He turned his attention back to Justin's chest and lavished the same attention on Justin's right nipple that he had paid to the left one. He continued to play with them, completely ignoring Justin's cock, which was now gushing pre-cum, for as long as he could stand. Finally, when Justin had stopped trying to hold back his whimpers and was constantly groaning and arching towards Brian's mouth, he stopped. Justin had growled at the loss of attention, a sound which went straight to Brian's cock, but then practically purred when Brian had lowered his mouth to the boy's taut belly and made his way down to his pubic hair, stopping to lave his belly button on the way, and eliciting a squeal of laughter from Justin.

He paused when he reached the tangle of darkly golden curls that surrounded Justin's cock, which was now purple with blood and straining up to his belly. He took the end of the hairs into his teeth and pulled gently on them. Justin groaned, and thrust his hips in the air, clearly hoping that Brian would do something about his aching hard on, but Brian ignored him. Instead he had released the hair in his mouth and then proceeded to lick and nibble his way around the thatch of hair, over Justin's hip and down to the inside of Justin's widely parted thighs.

Justin's cock was now right in front of his face, and Brian's mouth watered at the sight, wanting to remind himself of the texture, the taste of his boy, but he pulled back. That wasn't part of his plan. Yet. He could not resist, however, sucking hard on the inside of Justin's widely spread thighs, marking him so that no matter who else the boy was with, that other lucky man would know that Justin was not going home with him, that he belonged to someone else.

His hands were stroking down Justin's muscular legs and all his senses were full of Justin, the taste of him on his tongue, his groans in his ears, the smell of him, the sight of him, the feel of him. It was so much, too much, and Brian had thought he might cum without even being touched. Then for the first time Justin had spoken.

"Please," he had asked. Begged. Brian had almost cum on the spot, but had managed to hold himself together.

"Please what?" he asked, laughter in his voice.

"Please," Justin had panted. "Oh God, Brian please, touch me, suck me, fuck me, anything, just oh GOD!"

Brian had barely touched him, just whispered his fingertips over the top of Justin's cock, but the boy had almost cum, his back arching right off the bed, his head thrown back, his whole body tensed. Brian slid his fingers down the thick organ and then pinched them together hard at the base, effectively stopping Justin's orgasm. Justin gradually relaxed, but his breathing was still labored, and he looked delightfully flushed, completely debauched, and utterly fuckable. It was all Brian could do to not just turn him over and plunge into him. And he was sure that Justin wouldn't object. But this wasn't about him. It was about this gorgeous man lying in front of him, keening and whimpering at the touch of his hand.

Brian slid his hand back up and swiped the pre-cum from the head of Justin's cock, then used it as lubricant as he pumped his hand up and down. "Don't cum yet," he instructed.

"I'll try," Justin said breathlessly, and for a second they shared a look, a memory, before Justin was lost once again to the sensations, and Brian concentrated on giving him as much pleasure as possible. He had told Justin not to come but knew that by this point the boy would not be able to hold it off. In fact, he was counting on it.

He varied the length and tightness of his strokes, keeping Justin permanently off kilter, never knowing what he would feel next. Brian used every trick he knew to make Justin cum, ignoring all of his lover's frantic pleas to slow down. Sure enough he had soon recognized the tell tale signs, the little noise Justin made when he was trying to stop from cumming, and bending down, sealed his mouth over the top of Justin's cock. Justin came in his mouth in three powerful spurts, and Brian swallowed, reveling in the taste.

When Justin was finally done he wasted no time, but flipped the boy over and draped himself over his back. Justin had relaxed and pushed his ass up, obviously thinking that Brian was going to fuck him, but instead Brian whispered in his ear, "you've been a bad boy."

Justin looked at him in askance over his shoulder. "I told you not to cum," Brian reminded him.

"But-" Justin had protested, but Brian cut him off.

"And you know that all bad boys have to be punished." Justin had shivered at the seductive note in Brian's voice, and put his head back down, submitting to what Brian wanted. Brian had looked at the beautiful boy - man - spread out in front of him, and knew that he could never walk away from him. 'Control through submission,' something had whispered in his mind, but he put the thought aside, to be examined later.

He started again, this time by placing his hands on Justin's shoulders and beginning a slow sensual massage. Justin had groaned as he had dug his fingers into the knots in the muscles covered by milky pale skin. The stress from the last couple of days and the muscles used in his orgasm had all contrived to make his back very sore, and the younger man had sunk gratefully into the bed, thinking that if this was a punishment he wanted to be punished every day.

Slowly he had become hard again, but had felt no compulsion to act on it until Brian had replaced his hand with his mouth, sweeping his lips across Justin's back with small sucking kisses until he reached Justin's ass. Slowly he caressed it with both hands then carefully parted the cheeks before reaching out his tongue and flicking it across the hole. Justin screamed.

Brian continued his actions, flickering his tongue across Justin's winking hole in strong, broad strokes until Justin was pushing his ass back into his face and begging him to fuck him. "Such a little slut," Brian had murmured, pulling back to take in the sight of Justin writhing on the bed. Using his hands he coaxed Justin up onto his hands and knees, had draped himself across his back again, but when he reached down to caress Justin's cock, he had slipped a small metal object over the swollen organ, then clipped it into place just in front of Justin's balls. Justin groaned with frustration; he was just as desperate to cum now as he had been before Brian had given him a hand job, but he knew that he would not be able to.

Brian coaxed him back down onto the bed and proceeded to eat out his ass. He poked his tongue between the cheeks, then, pointing it, into Justin's waiting hole. Justin screamed again and would have cum but for the cock-ring. Soon Brian's fingers joined his tongue, sliding in and out, stretching the small hole, and occasionally dipping in far enough to touch his prostate.

Justin was now incoherent, moaning from the lightest of touches, half screaming whenever his prostate was stimulated. His whole body was shaking with the need to cum and he was sobbing into the pillow, his hips thrusting into the mattress to try and gain enough friction to overcome the cock-ring's effect.

Finally Brian pushed three fingers up against Justin's prostate for almost a minute, during which Justin's whole body had tensed and his cock felt as if it were about to explode. Then Brian pulled abruptly out, and reached for a condom from the nightstand, leaving Justin to recover somewhat from the onslaught of sensation and emotion. Then he moved Justin onto his back, and Justin sighed with relief as he watched Brian put the condom on, thinking that his partner would remove the cock-ring.

Instead Brian took his hand and led him over to the sofa where he sat, his powerful legs wide apart and his cock on display. "Come here," he said softly, and pulled Justin down onto his lap. "I love you," he had told his lover, who had seemed to be trying to curl up as small as he should, to get as much of his skin in contact with Brian's as possible. Justin shivered at the words, and somehow felt even more turned on, something he hadn't though possible.

Brian pushed him back slightly and looked him in the eye. "I want you to ride me," he had said, his voice husky with lust. Justin had whimpered and gestured at the cock-ring, but Brian shook his head. "Sorry," he had said, and indeed Justin had been able to see something in his eyes that looked regretful, "but bad boys have to be punished."

Justin had pushed himself upwards onto his knees, positioned himself, and then slid down onto Brian's cock, his well stretched hole taking him easily in. Brian had held still, wanting to allow Justin to adjust but the boy had had other ideas, wanting the feel of Brian inside him, even if he couldn't come. He had set a fast pace, obviously hoping that once Brian had got off, he would be allowed to as well, but Brian slowed him right down.

"Shh," he had whispered, rubbing at his sides to soothe him. "We've got plenty of time." Justin had moved more slowly, almost against his own volition, and soon the world had narrowed to only the two of them. All there were Justin’s blue eyes, gazing intensely into Brian's hazel ones, and Brian gazing equally intensely back. All there was their sweat soaked bodies, Brian's dick and Justin's ass, only the sound of their breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and Justin's occasional muted whimpers when Brian's cock hit his prostate.

Slowly, Brian allowed them to speed up, until Justin was once again bouncing furiously on his lap. Brian had been horny since the moment they woke, and he could not hold on any longer. With a roar he emptied himself inside Justin, and just as he reached the peak of his climax, the words "I love you," were torn from his mouth.

Justin heard him, and gasped, and then his body began to spasm, overtaken by an intense orgasm that shook him to his very core. Brian carefully lifted him off of him and Justin had mewled; although he had cum the cock-ring had not allowed any of his seed to come through and his cock was still throbbing and hard, the pleasure so intense it was bordering on painful.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," Brian had whispered. "I love you, ok? I'm here, and I love you, and I'm going to make it all better. Just promise you won't come until I say you can, ok?" Justin had taken a deep breath and nodded, although doubt showed in his eyes as to whether he would be able to do as he promised he would.

Slowly Brian had unclipped the cock-ring and drew it gently off of Justin's cock, the now heated metal occasionally grazing the hard flesh and making him squirm. Brian put the ring to one side. "I love you, Justin," he had said again, wrapping his hand around Justin's cock. "Now come for me," and he stroked down the hard organ.

That was all it had taken; Justin came in spurts, the creamy liquid showering both their bodies, and Justin shaking from the force of two such powerful orgasms coming so close together. As soon as it was over Justin had wrapped his arms around Brian and begun kissing every inch of skin he could find, needing the feel of his lover after such an intense experience. Brian allowed him to do what he wanted, knowing that Justin needed to be in control for a little while.

"I love you too," Justin had whispered in his ear finally, and Brian had smiled.

"I know," he had said, and picking Justin up, carried him back to bed.

<<<<>>>>

The next time they had woken had been slightly different; both covered in sweat and cum they had taken a shower, and although they both had a protein shake for breakfast ... lunch, the intensity from earlier had dissipated slightly, although none of the passion had gone.

They had ended up on the sofa, clothed but only barely, and constantly kissing, as though each needed to reassure the other that they were really there, that this was really happening. 'The honeymoon phase,' Brian had thought wryly. He had never really had one with Justin before that hadn't been preceded by tragedy.

'Except,' his mind had reminded him, 'this one was as well.' He had drawn back and turned away from Justin, unsure of what to do, but still not willing to reveal his pain so easily.

"Don't," Justin had said, reaching out to tilt his head back up to look at him. "Don't shut me out. I know this is hard - I can't imagine how hard this is for you - but we will get through it somehow."

"Well I'm not going to go and see some fucking shrink," Brian had snarked, partly to keep the conversation on a lighter footing, but also to make sure Justin put the idea firmly out of his head. To his surprise Justin had laughed.

"I should fucking well hope not," he said. "You've taught me a lot but this one I learnt on my own. I wouldn't be able to live with myself sending you off to see some stranger - you'd come back worse than you went in."

Brian's shock had shown on his face. "I thought you were into all that touch feely share my emotions shit," he had said.

"I think it can work for some people," Justin explained, "but done wrong it can really mess you up. You've only got to where you are now because you _haven't_ been to see 'some fucking shrink' although they'd have had a field day with you. We're gonna get through this one day at a time, and if you need to talk you can talk to me. I won't have all the answers, but I can help you, and together we can do it."

His words had sounded trite and ridiculous and something along the lines of 'Once more into the breach, dears friends,' but Brian believed every syllable. Still, "Because you love me, right?" he had to know, had to ask. Somehow, almost overnight, the expression of love had become a strength to Brian rather than a weakness and he knew that hearing it from Justin would give him the strength to go on.

"Because I love you," Justin had told him, and had drawn him into a gentle kiss.

And somehow this had ended with Brian sitting alone at the office, not wanting to go home and face Justin, the man he loved. He had been so hopeful that they would pull through this, but the nightmares had been bad, even worse than the ones he had had after the prom, and the only thing that pulled him through them was Justin.

He would wake up shivering and shaking, often screaming at the top of his lungs with sweat soaked sheets twisted around him as he struggled to pull free. Justin would hold his trembling body until he calmed down enough to sleep again but he was normally awoken several times a night, and so, by consequence, Justin was too.

Justin had shown him that he needed Brian's love, Brian's strength, and all Brian was showing him was a weakness he could not rid himself of no matter how hard he tried. He thought about asking Justin to leave the loft, in the hopes that Justin not actually seeing tangible evidence of this weakness might actually save their relationship. But he didn't think that Justin would go, and besides, he knew that he could not make it through the night without him. Without Justin, he might as well be dead.

So he withdrew the rest of the time, wanting to keep from seeing the disappointment he knew had to be in Justin's eyes. He could only allow Justin to hold him at night if he did not have to see him the rest of the time, and so could keep believing that Justin was not disgusted by his weakness. To top this off, Justin had noticed how he was pushing everyone away, and seemed to take personal offence, making it his vendetta to get Brian to speak to his friends, when all Brian wanted and needed to do was hide away. The boy would push so much that normally Brian would just have given in, but this time the irritation of Justin was outweighed by his fear of being found out.

In consequence their arguments often degenerated into screaming matches, where one would threaten to leave, and would often actually make it to the door, but then the other would give in, because they both knew that Brian wouldn't make it through the night on his own.

There were still good times. The sex was incredible now; more so than it had ever been before, and Brian's new found freedom to say 'I love you,' caused some beautifully playful and tender moments. But with the lack of time spent around each other when they weren't fighting or sleeping made these few and far between.

Something had to be done, Brian resolved, and he would do it tonight. He could not lose Justin when he had only just really found him. Damn, this was part of the reason he had held back those three little words in the first place. If he hadn't admitted to himself that he was in love, he might have been able to pretend it would hurt less when Justin left, might have been able to let him go without a fight. Now, he couldn't.

He arrived home at the loft, scared, but prepared to do something, anything, to save both himself and Justin, but when he walked in he saw Justin putting down the phone, a worried expression on his face.

"What is it?" Brian asked, his resolve temporarily forgotten.

Justin took a deep breath, and told him all about Proposition 14.

<<<<>>>>

Justin felt as though he were losing his mind. It had somehow all seemed so hopeful at the beginning. Then he snorted. 'Yeah,' he told himself. 'You really have lost your mind if you thought dealing with... dealing with _this_ was gonna be easy.'

But he and Brian had been together, and Brian loved him, and he wasn't afraid of him, and they were going to get through it all _together_.Justin shook his head. Christ, was he never going to get over being the naive little seventeen year old Brian had picked up on a street corner five years ago? No matter how much he tried not to hope for things, to be cynical, practical, realistic, that silly little boy just kept pushing through.

And right now that kid was the last person Justin could think of to deal with the mess he and Brian found themselves in. They needed each other still, desperately, that much was clear. Justin had always known that he was never going to get Brian out of his system but that incredible fuck they had had the morning after.... just thinking about it made Justin hard. But then Brian could always make Justin hard. And especially now when all he had to do was say those three little words, and Justin could be doing anything, painting, washing up, talking to Daphne, and he'd drop it just to be with Brian. Feel Brian filling him up from the inside.

Sex wasn't the problem. Sex between them had always been good. Justin wasn't sure what the problem was exactly. The nightmares Brian had were part of it; he would wake up sometimes three or four times a night screaming and Justin would have to hold him and rock him back to sleep. They had been worse for a while after Brian had seen Gus; Justin didn't want to know why although his overactive imagination served him in bad stead, providing him with the images Brian probably saw every night. Justin had almost thrown up himself.

Brian seemed to feel guilty about the nightmares, apologizing to Justin for waking him. Justin had tried telling him it was only what Brian had done for him after the prom, but this caused the haunted look in Brian's eyes to deepen and Brian to retreat even further into himself, so Justin had stopped trying. During the days Brian avoided Justin; he seemed unable to look him in the eye, as though afraid of what he might find there. Or what Justin might find in his eyes.

Part of the problem was their friends. As wonderful as some of them were they were quite possibly the worst friends to have in this situation. Brian wouldn't go near Lindsay, Debbie or, for some reason that Justin couldn't quite fathom, Emmett, terrified that they would find out. Justin had once asked timidly if that would be such a bad thing. Brian had exploded, yelling at him so loudly that Justin couldn't hear what he was saying, and Justin hadn't sat down and taken it, but fought back, knowing that pandering to Brian's weakness would only make his life that much more difficult in the long run.

That had been the first of their screaming matches, which had become even more common when Justin figured out how Brian was keeping Michael out of his life. Justin thought that Brian needed Michael, even if Michael couldn't understand the situation, and if yelling at his lover was the only way to get him to accept that then so be it. Then he had heard one of Michael's snide comments to Brian about how much more of a father he was to J.R. than Brian was to Gus. Justin had stormed into the comic shop; dragged Brian out and neither had spoken of it again. Those arguments, at least, had stopped.

Basically the problem was Brian. Brian was broken, and doing everything the wrong way in attempting to fix himself - only Justin had no idea what the right way was. It was _not_ going to see some shrink who would probably tell him he was only gay because of his Dad's abuse and that if he got married and had some kids everything would go back to normal. All Justin could do what sit back and wait for the fall out, then quietly clean up the mess.

He was sitting making this decision for the millionth time when the phone rang. It was Mel. Justin was surprised to hear from her; without the bond of Lindsay and Gus he had slightly lost touch with her. She sounded angry when he picked up the phone and for a moment Justin was scared that Brian had gone and done something stupid, but when she had finished he was angry too. In fact, forget angry, he was fucking furious.

He barely noticed Brian come in, and when his lover asked him what was wrong for the first time in what felt like forever he wasn't thinking about Brian. He ranted to Brian for almost an hour about the unfairness, the hypocrisy, the prejudice, everything that was wrong with that bloody Proposition.

And when he was done Brian grabbed hold of him, planted a huge heavy kiss on his mouth and then whispered into his lips, "I love you."

Justin took him to bed and rode him until they both came, Brian calling out Justin's name and Justin just roaring, releasing some of his anger at a world where terrible things happened to little boys, and where two people could not just be left alone to love in peace.

Afterwards Brian wrapped his arms around him and whispered in his ear, "You’re so strong. You're gonna get through this, I know you are. You'll fight and you'll win. I love you."

Justin was so surprised at hearing such encouraging, inspiring words from Brian that he didn't realize until much, much later that Brian hadn't said, "We're strong. We'll fight." He'd said "You."

<<<<>>>>

The nightmares were worse than ever that night; it seemed as though no sooner had Brian got to sleep than he would be crying out again, trying to escape from a long dead man who would not leave him undisturbed. Sometimes Justin wished that Jack Kinney were not dead, just so that he could have the pleasure of killing him himself. Or so that Brian could.

Eventually they both gave up trying to sleep. Justin blamed himself. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have..." he gestured vaguely at the bed. Since Brian's revelation their sex lives hadn't dropped off; in fact, far from it, but Brian had always been the one in control, the one on top. As long he had Brian, Justin didn't care too much but last night he had been so angry he'd needed to be in control.

Now he was angry again. Angry at himself.

"Don't," Brian told him vehemently. "I'm not some little pussy fag who can't deal with being the one underneath. You didn't even fuck me, for Chrissakes!"

"But-" Justin protested before he could help himself.

"Christ!" Brian swore again. "Is that really all you think of me? That I'm some weak little faggot who can't deal with real life? Who has to have his _boyfriend_ hold him like a baby just to get some fucking sleep? If I'm that pathetic, that weak, why don't you just up and leave already?"

Justin got up and went over to him; all vestiges of guilt carefully wiped from his face, and wrapped his arms around Brian's waist.

"I think that you're a beautiful strong man who had to deal with more than any human being should _before_ all this happened, and that right now you need some time to heal."

Brian tore away from him. "Don't!" he shouted. "Do _not_ fucking placate me. I am not a child! Fuck this, just fuck this." Brian grabbed some clothes, shoved them on, and left the loft.

Justin stared after him. "I thought that was my line," he said to the empty room. He withdrew back to bed and lay there until Brian came back after seven in the morning, reeking of alcohol and sex. He listened as his lover showered and left for work and then rolled over and went to sleep.

Things got even worse. Brian was almost never home and barely slept when he was. Justin threw himself into fighting Proposition 14, raging at the world outside instead of the pain that was wrapped around his heart. He spent more time with the gang than he had in a long time, but was careful never to mention Brian, even to Emmett's worried questioning.

He avoided Michael. He could forgive the dark haired man everything he'd ever said about him or done to him in light of their newfound friendship, but he could not forgive what he had done to Brian. His days vanished into a haze of knocking on doors and calling unfamiliar phone numbers, of abuse screamed in his ear and promises made to try and make the world a better place, which he could never quite believe.

Brian spent his days at work, frantically finishing one project after another, partly to have something to concentrate on, partly because he somehow believed that if he proved himself here the rest might just go away. He spent his nights at Babylon or the Baths, hoping against hope that the next ass, the next drink, the next mouth, the next hit, would be the one to drive the unwelcome memories from his mind. It hadn't happened yet.

After the first night though, he was always in by three in the morning. Justin still held him through his nightmares, and often as not, they'd fuck. Sometimes Brian would even feel able to whisper "I love you," and Justin would whisper it back, and they'd fall asleep entwined with one another.

Then they would wake the next morning and hurry back to their own personal obsessions, any lingering tenderness fought off and any lingering pain hurriedly buried under a pile of work. Then Justin went to see his father.

He had been horrified to find his name on a list of backers for Proposition 14, and gone to see him, believing that this was all just a part of it, another way of burying his head in the sand. He was getting very good at that.

He went in, and immediately knew that it was a mistake. But he was here now, and he might as well give it his best shot. His father refused to back down. All the logic in the world could not prevail against Craig Taylor's stubborn beliefs. When he accused Justin of breaking up his parents the artist had recoiled slightly, hurt and upset to have his constant fear confirmed. Then a small voice in the back of his head drew attention to the differences between his relationship with his father, and Brian's with his. It was a selfish thought that Justin never admitted to but it had kept him going, kept him caring for his father when nothing else would have done.

He might be disgusted but at least he never beat me. At least he never _raped_ me. Immediately Justin's held was filled with confused blurred images, memories mixing, of his first time with Brian, of Sap's party where he had almost been raped, of the hugs and kisses his father had given him as a young boy until Craig had judged him too old to be shown that kind of affection.

He felt dizzy and nauseous, stumbling forward only to catch himself against Craig's desk and throw up all over his papers. To his credit Craig had sat him down and put his head between his legs until the dizziness stopped, but then he had told him to get out. Craig Taylor didn't have a son.

Justin arrived back at the loft shaking from head to toe. Sobs had been threatening to break out since the moment he had left his father's business and the moment he got inside and closed the door he leant back against it, the cool metal pressing into the back of his head, and slid to the floor, curling up and letting out the tears he had held in for too long.

"Justin?" Justin looked up and it was Brian, who should be at work, who shouldn't be at home, but oh god he was so glad he was he needed to be _loved._

"Justin? Justin, what happened?" That voice. That voice that he loved so much, and what had he been thinking letting things go on as they had, and the voice was full of affection and worry and caring and laughter was coming through the sobs now and Justin reached out and Brian was there.

Brian, Brian the man he loved, and he was planting kisses all over Justin's face and telling him he loved him, and please, please what was wrong?

<<<<>>>>

Brian had a bitch of a headache. One too many - or actually God knows how many too many - and his hangover had finally caught up with him. He'd been keeping it at bay with coffee and painkillers and more alcohol, but today the migraine hadn't lifted and no matter how hard he tried to work he couldn't concentrate. Finally Cynthia, who had been dying to do it for days, ordered him home. He had almost laughed at her but then had caught himself.

You don't let people in. It isn't worth it. Just look at him and Justin. He'd been strong and it had all been for nothing. He hadn't lost Justin yet but he might as well have done. He shook off the thoughts and made his way home with the music blaring despite his headache - it helped him to stop thinking.

He got into the loft and lay down but had only been there a few minutes when the door slid open again. Justin? He shouldn't be home yet. Of course Brian didn't have a very clear idea anymore of when Justin did come and go, but surely two in the afternoon was early? But it had to be him. He was the only one with a key anymore.

He got up slowly, mindful of his head, and made his way out of the bedroom, not sure what he was going to do. He couldn't quite seem to remember how to act with Justin without sex, fear or a comfortable haze of alcohol blurring everything between them.

Whatever he expected it certainly was not what he found. Justin was curled up at the bottom of the door, crying his eyes out. Normally Brian would have found this pitiful, but he knew Justin, and Justin was one brave little motherfucker. If Justin was crying it was because he'd had his heart ripped out.

"Justin?" He hadn't meant to speak but the words were drawn out of him in surprise. When Justin lifted his head he could wish that he hadn't. His eyes were full of raw, needy pain and Brian wanted to back far, far away from so much misery. But he didn't. Justin could be strong for him. He had to be strong for Justin.

"Justin? Justin, what happened?" The look in Justin's eyes eased slightly and Brian knew that it was because of him, because he was there and he, broken as he was, could help. Justin reached for him and it was like a dam broke, all the feeling and fear and wonder they had both been storing up for the past few weeks flew out of them, and Brian could not stop touching Justin, not stop kissing him, and asking him if he was alright, and this was not him, but it felt so good to be caring for someone else.

Brian scooped Justin up in his arms and carried him, stumbling only slightly, to the bed, where he dropped him heavily onto the mattress and fell down beside him. Immediately Justin was on him again, his hands grasping at him and Brian grabbed right back and held him and rocked him and soothed him, almost as if he were looking after a child.

They kissed and kept kissing, occasionally straying to the other's jaw or neck but mostly just kissing each other's lips and mumbling nonsensical words between their mouths. They fell asleep holding one another, Justin's hair shining in the bright sunlight.

<<<<>>>>

You smile down at the sleeping boy. He looks just like Gus but you know, somehow, that this is Brian, and all you want to do is scoop him up and take care of him. He turns over in his sleep and his threadbare pajamas slip exposing a nasty bruise on his collarbone. You frown with displeasure, and you want to find whoever did this to him, and make sure they can't again, but the need to stay with Brian is stronger.

You have to protect him.

You draw your hand over the bruise and it disappears at the touch of your fingers. You smile, and smooth back the hair from Brian's face. You will protect him. You'll take away all the pain, and the two of you will live happily ever after. You sigh in contentment, and then jump as the door bursts open.

Your father is standing there.

He doesn't see you. You jump up to try and get his attention, thinking that he's come for you and angry that he would disturb Brian's sleep, but he ignores you. He heads straight for the sleeping boy. You try and pull him back but your hand passes straight through him. You stare at it for a moment and by the time you look up the scene has changed.

Brian is naked, and cowering away from your father, who has merely pushed down his pants and underwear. He backhands Brian and then grabs the small child, forcing him to turn other way. You try to stop him, you do, but you can't touch him, and your voice makes no sound as you try to yell. You are forced to watch in silence as your father rapes this little boy version of your lover.

When he's done you try and comfort Brian, try to take away the hurt, but he cowers from you. He does not say a word, just looks at you accusingly.

Your father seems to notice you for the first time. He drags you away from Brian and presses you up again the wall. "I love you, Sonny Boy," he says his breath rank in your face. Then he reaches for the zip of your pants and you struggle away and scream.

"Easy! Easy, it's alright; I'm here; I've got you. Come on, Sunshine, it's alright." Justin relaxed into Brian's grip, then burrowed into his side, running his hands all over him as though trying to ascertain that he was alright. Brian pulled him back to face him.

"What happened yesterday?"

"Nothing," Justin said defiantly. He isn't sure why he can't tell Brian this; he only knows that it's something he will not, cannot, do.

"Bullshit," Brian told him. "Now, come on, you're the one who's all into communication, and it's definitely your turn to bare your soul."

Justin wanted to argue. There were so many ways he could counter this, put Brian off, but then he saw the look in Brian's eyes, the worried, caring, _loving_ look and he knew that he had to tell him.

"I went to see my Dad," he mumbled. "Stupid, but he was backing Proposition 14, and I had to say something. It was just the usual bullshit until he told me that I was responsible for him and my Mom breaking up." Brian looked as though he wanted to interrupt, but Justin pre-empted him.

"Yeah, I know, it's not true, it's stupid, but it hurt. And, please, don't hate me for this, but I was just grasping for a way to feel better, to justify why I still loved him and-"

"And you remembered that at least he hadn't raped you." Brian's voice was cold, dead, and he'd turned his face away, but Justin wrapped his hand round his neck and brought him back.

"Something like that," he admitted, "and I'm sorry, and it was stupid, ok? But my mind just got filled with these images, and I couldn't believe what I'd been doing lately, leaving you to deal with the reality yourself when I could barely cope with the possibility."

"You shouldn't have to-" Brian broke in, but Justin spoke over him.

"Yes I do," he said firmly, "and not because you're weak, or because I'm strong. But because I love you, and I need to look after you when you hurt. I'm sorry, and I know it's selfish, but it's something I need to do for me, just like you need to look after me. Just like you looked after me yesterday."

"And the dream?" Brian asked hesitantly, half understanding for the first time why Justin might actually stick around when Brian was going through this.

"I saw you, as a little boy," Justin told him, not wanting to, but knowing that Brian needed to hear it. "You were sleeping and you had this bruise on your chest, and I touched it and it went away. But then my Dad came in, and he just went straight for you, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't even touch him or scream for help. And he..." Justin choked slightly, but managed to continue. "He raped you. And when he was done you wouldn't let me anywhere near you and then he slammed me up against the wall. And he told me that he loved me and his hand reached for my pants and then," he took a deep breath, "then I woke up."

He started to shake again and Brain wrapped his arms around him and soothed him. Justin wanted to say something, wanted to protest that it was him that should be looking out for Brian, but the look in Brian's eyes as he held him once again changed his mind, holding him back.

They slept, and no more nightmares visited them that night.

<<<<>>>>

Justin woke up the next morning to find that Brian had already left for work, and felt his heart sink. They were just going to go back to pretending that nothing was wrong, keep everything that happened at night, any time they connected in a separate box from the rest of their lives, make sure that nothing would ever get through to them.

He himself should really be getting to the centre; he had volunteered there every day for the past couple of weeks and he was signed up for today as well. But he didn't feel the need, the drive today, to rage against the world and bury himself in good, necessary work. Last night had exorcised some demons for him, and he knew that there was no going back.

He called in to the centre and said that he wasn't feeling too great, and would they mind if he took the day off. They assured him that they had plenty of workers, and that as he'd already done more than his fair share he should enjoy his day off.

Justin took a leisurely shower and then got dressed slowly and made himself coffee. Although he was disheartened by Brian's absence this morning he refused to let it throw him. He was going to bring Brian back into the world of the living if he had to drag him back by his carefully styled hair, kicking and screaming.

He was laughing at the image when he heard the noise of the door opening and turned to find Brian standing in the doorway. He took one look at Brian's face and the laughter died on his lips.

Slowly and deliberately Brian closed the door, put down his briefcase and hung up his coat. Justin was rooted to the spot, wanting to yell at Brian to hurry the fuck up, but unable to speak.

Brian finally moved over to Justin and stood right in front of him, so close that Justin could feel Brian's breath on his face. Brian opened his mouth.

"This isn't working."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin both make disparaging remarks about mental health professionals in this chapter. This is based on my interpretation of their characters, and the one interaction we saw Justin have with a therapist. These opinions are not my own, and I would urge anyone dealing with any mental health issues to seek professional help. However, I would counsel anyone doing so to thoroughly research anyone before going to see them as therapy, if done badly, or by someone with an agenda, can cause serious problems.


	6. Getting Through It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin struggle to find the help they need, and Michael is furious about being left out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains references to the sexual and physical abuse of a child by a parent, and non-graphic description of rape.

"This isn't working."

 

Justin's breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and he just stood there, looking at Brian.

 

" _We're_ not working."

 

_No_ , Justin begged silently in his mind, _he's_ not _saying what I think he is!_

 

"We have - we have to get some help. We can't carry each other anymore. It's just too fucking heavy."

 

Justin let out the breath he had been holding in a puff of air and whacked Brian hard on the arm.

 

"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

 

"You stupid prick! I thought you were going to break up with me. Again!"

 

"Well, it is my turn," Brian smirked. Justin took one look at the self satisfied grin on Brian's face, slapped his arm again, and then launched himself at him, covering his face in kisses.

 

"You....stupid....little....shit," he said between kisses. "You....really....fucking....scared....me!" He finished with a long hard kiss to Brian's mouth, leaving the older man's eyes looking slightly glazed when he pulled back. Justin smirked at the look on Brian's face, and then the grin got even wider when Brian shook his head, as though to bring himself back to reality.

 

Brian glared at him for a moment, and then gathered him up in his arms, and proceeded to kiss him thoroughly so that when he pulled back, Justin's eyes were just as glazed as his were.

 

"Brian," Justin murmured, reaching down to palm Brian's cock.

 

"Ye-es," Brian gasped, as Justin squeezed him firmly through the material of his pants.

 

"When was the last time we had sex in the middle of the day?"

 

"I don't remember," Brian replied dazedly as Justin unzipped his pants and slipped his hand inside.

 

"I think we should remedy that, don't you?" He pulled softly on Brian's cock.

 

"You have the best ideas, Sunshine," Brian told him, pulling back so that he could properly undo his pants and pull them off. Then he pulled Justin toward him and began kissing him, at the same time as his fingers nimbly undid Justin's shirt to slip inside and tug slightly on the pale pink nipples. Justin moaned into his mouth. In two seconds flat Brian had turned the tables so that Justin was the one writhing under his touch.

 

The blond pulled back and shook his head, trying to collect himself, but Brian pursued him, gave him one small kiss on the mouth and then whispered against his lips, "I love you."

 

Justin groaned and savagely attacked Brian's mouth with his, then pulled back, breathless. "No....fair," he panted.

 

Brian smirked, and led him to bed.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

"So, what did you mean exactly?" Brian was lying quietly in bed, enjoying his post-coital haze, when Justin decided that he wanted to do something as lesbionic as _talk_ after sex. Normally Brian found Justin's babbling endearing, not that he would admit it, but there were some places he felt should be a talking free zone. In bed after sex was definitely one of them. But if he _didn't_ talk after sex, the chances of having more sex became significantly lower.

 

"Hmm?" Brian finally replied, hoping that he would be able to satisfy Justin with noises the blond could take to mean any way he wanted.

 

"When you said we needed help before, what did you mean exactly?"

 

No such fucking luck. Brian took a moment to gather his thoughts then tentatively tried to explain it to Justin. "I don't know, _exactly_. I just know that we can't go on as we have been. We've both got issues-" He made quotation marks in the air, and then paused to poke Justin when the younger man snorted at the word. "I still don't like the idea of therapy, but you can't handle all my shit and I can't deal with yours at the same time as trying to deal with my life. We need help."

 

"And a man has to know when to ask for help," Justin chimed in. "But I don't like the idea of therapy any more than you do. The only time I went was to this creepy shrink my Mom took me to when she thought I might be 'going through a phase.'" He snorted. "Completely fucking useless."

 

"They might not all be like that," Brian suggested half heartedly, but he was glad of the excuse not to think about that option. He had a hard enough time opening up to Justin, or upon occasion, Lindsay, fuck knows what some stranger with a degree in psycho babble would make of him.

 

"We could always talk to my Mom," Justin offered thoughtfully.

 

"What the fuck?" Brian exclaimed. "You want me to talk to your Mom about how fucked up our relationship is because I just remembered that my Dad liked to fuck me?"

 

Justin winced. "Sorry," he said. "I wasn't thinking. It's just that until you happened I could always tell her everything, you know? And once she got over the gay thing, and the you thing, it got to be like that again. And you can't exactly talk to your Mom, so...." he trailed off as Brian looked at him skeptically. "Sorry," he apologized again, "it was a stupid idea."

 

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said automatically, feeling slightly guilty for crushing the boy's idea. "Maybe you should talk to her," he offered. "If you're feeling better at least, that'll help ease the situation. Maybe if you don't need to bury yourself in piles of work, I won't either. At the very least I might stop scaring away all the interns."

 

He laughed, but Justin was looking at him thoughtfully. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You wouldn't mind me talking about this shit with my Mom?"

 

Brian squirmed slightly at the grateful look Justin was giving him. "As long as she knows not to take it any further," he said gruffly, looking away from the blue eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul.

 

Justin hooked a finger under his chin, and lifted Brian's head up to meet his gaze. "Thank you," he whispered with a faint smile, and then gave him a long lingering kiss, tugging slightly at his lower lip with his teeth before pulling away. "And maybe you could talk to Emmett," he suggested, knowing that the flamboyant man had looked after Brian while Justin had been away. "Or Lindsay, or-" he broke off, having forgotten for a moment about the Brian/Michael situation.

 

"Yeah," Brian said, ignoring his slip, "maybe I could talk to Emmett, or Lindsay." He couldn't imagine talking to either one of them about this, but Justin gave him such a huge Sunshine smile before snuggling down beside him that Brian couldn't bring himself to say anything. Instead he captured the smiling lips with his own, and the two of them kissed and caressed one another before they finally succumbed to sleep.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

They woke later that day to find a message from Debbie on the answer phone saying that they were going to go and protest outside of Craig Taylor's store the next day.

 

"Are you going?" Brian asked, his hand slipping around Justin's slim waist as he pulled the blond back against him.

 

"No," Justin replied, leaning into his touch, and gasping as Brian leaned down to suck on his neck. "I don't need to see him again. I've said all I can say." He moaned as Brian suddenly bit on the muscle at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "What are you, a fucking vampire?"

 

"Maybe I should have been," Brian replied, licking a path up right side of his neck, while his left hand crept around to play with Justin's nipple. Justin arched into the touch. "I fucking love your neck," Brian went on, pressing small kisses on Justin's throat as he did so. "So smooth, so pale, all the tender, delicious skin for me to taste."

 

His left hand moved up to Justin's full mouth, to trace the contours of his lips until Justin caught the fingers and pulled them into his mouth, sucking on them like he did Brian's cock. Brian replied by sucking at a small patch on Justin's neck, worrying the area with his teeth, then soothing it with his tongue.

 

Then his right hand fumbled with drawer of the desk the phone stood on, and he thanked God he had condoms stashed everywhere around this place. He grabbed one, and then removed his fingers and mouth from Justin just long enough to tear open the packet with his teeth, and them slide the condom onto his rock hard cock. Justin whimpered his protest but Brian soothed him, wrapping his right arm around his waist and pushing his left up to the blond's mouth again.

 

"Suck them, Justin" he whispered huskily in his ear, before tracing the delicate shell with his tongue. "Get them good and wet, it's all you'll be getting." Eagerly Justin took the fingers into his mouth and began to coat them with his saliva. "Is this what you want?" Brian asked, wanting to play the game, but needing to make sure that Justin was comfortable with this. "Do you want to take it all, have it rough, like an animal?"

 

Justin nodded frantically, his mouth too full to speak. Brian withdrew his fingers, and then pushed Justin forward slightly so that his belly was resting against the desk in front of them. His lubricated fingers easily found Justin's hole and pushed inside, the first followed quickly by the second, Justin crying out at each entry, then settling into short panting breaths as Brian moved his fingers quickly in and out, occasionally grazing his prostate.

 

Just before he thought Justin was ready Brian added a third finger, but Justin took it easily and after only a few thrusts Brian pulled them out and replaced them with his cock, the latex covered organ bumping gently against Justin's hole. He pushed in slightly, the head just breaching the tight ring of muscle, stretching Justin around him. Then he remained still. Justin whimpered and tried to push back, but Brian slapped him lightly on the thigh, and then rubbed soothing circles on his belly until he had calmed slightly.

 

Then, without warning, Brian pushed all the way in, in one long stroke. Justin yelled out, and his upper body tried to collapse onto the desk in front of him, but Brian grabbed him and pulled him back against him. Then he began to fuck him in earnest. "What would it be like?" he asked Justin, "if I really was a vampire?" He mouthed at Justin's neck and the boy groaned. "What would you do if I bit into you while we were fucking? It would be so hot. Like I was fucking you in two different places at once. You'd love it, wouldn't you? That pleasure pain, the blood flowing out of you, my cock in your ass, my hand on your dick, my teeth in your throat. You're close to cumming just thinking about it."

 

Brian bit down hard then, into the side of Justin's throat, and used his right hand to quickly jerk Justin's dick. Justin's eyes rolled up in his head, and his body spasmed, then relaxed, falling back slightly against Brian. Two more thrusts and Brian came inside him.

 

The taller man had some difficulty pulling out, trying to keep one hand gripping the condom and support Justin's weight, but eventually he managed it, and lead the younger man over to the bed. Justin was awake, but not particularly coherent, and seemed unable to control his limbs properly. Brian smirked at him as he came back to fill awareness.

 

"That," Justin announced to no one in particular, "was fucking hot." Then his eyes widened and he slapped his right hand to his neck. "Jesus Christ, Brian!"

 

"What?" Brian asked him innocently.

 

"I'm gonna have about a hundred fucking hickey's tomorrow. And I have to see my mother!"

 

Brian smirked. "Well, count yourself lucky it's winter and you’re an artsy type. You can get away with a turtle neck."

 

Justin grimaced. "I hate turtle necks. I only wear them for boring, stuffy occasions. Or when _someone_ ," he cast a pointed look at Brian, who grinned back, completely unrepentant, "goes crazy on my neck and I have to cover things up. Besides," he went on, "they remind me of when I was with Eth-" He broke off and looked guiltily at Brian.

 

"It's ok," Brian smiled gently at him. "We're both agreed on the fact that the fucking fiddler was the biggest mistake you've ever made, you can talk about him. Especially if you feel like saying mean, nasty, petty things."

 

Justin pouted. "You think I'm mean, and nasty, and petty?" he asked in slightly babyish voice that always grated on Brian's nerves.

 

"No," he said shortly, "I just don't think it's possible to have thoughts about the fucker that aren't mean, nasty, and petty." Justin laughed. "What were you saying about turtle necks?"

 

"Oh, nothing. Ethan just liked me to wear them a lot."

 

"Why?" Brian was honestly puzzled. "Did he give you lots of hickeys?"

 

"Jealous?" Justin teased. "No, hardly ever actually. I didn't really let him. I didn't like the idea of him marking me. So I guess I compromised with my clothes a bit. He liked me to wear lots of dark colors and concealing clothes. I think he was always a bit scared I was going to move on to the next guy to offer me roses or whatever shit, so he tried to hide me."

 

"Idiot," Brian murmured, brushing Justin's hair out of his face. "You're far too pretty to cover up."

 

"Really?" Justin smiled up at him.

 

"Really," Brian breathed. "My pretty little boy."

 

Justin giggled, which for some odd reason Brian couldn't resist, so he had to reach down and kiss him, just once, to make the giggling stop. Then he found that he liked kissing Justin and kept doing it, until he felt the blond growing hard against his thigh, and the whole thing started over again.

 

Justin had a few more hickey's to try and hide from his mother the next day.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin stormed into the loft and attempted to slam the door closed behind him; when he found that he couldn't he settled for sliding it closed as hard as he could. Brian watched him in consternation; when he had seen Justin off that morning he hadn't expected him to come back full of smiles after having spent a morning reliving his worst nightmares with his mother, but he had expected teary and vulnerable at worst, not fucking angry.

 

"What happened," he asked cautiously.

 

"Well, for one fucking thing," and Justin paused to pull the red turtle neck he was wearing over his head, "this fucking thing didn't work." He regarded the piece of clothing in his hand as if someone had told him it was the source of all homophobia or something equally terrible. "She took one look at what I was wearing and laughed, and spent the next ten minutes making jokes about my sex life. My mother, Brian, my mother!"

 

"So, you're angry because I gave you hickeys?" Brian tried. Justin glared. "What about all the shit you went to talk about?"

 

"Oh, we didn't even get that far," Justin said, throwing his hands up in the air, "because she had such wonderful news to tell me. She has a _boyfriend_ ," he snarled. Brian groaned and put his face in his hand. He really couldn't deal with a Taylor Teenage Temper Tantrum. "A boyfriend, who is half her age! Who drives a motorcycle! Who teaches at my sister's school!" His voice had risen almost an entire octave throughout his speech, and he looked slightly hysterical.

 

Brian stood and walked over to him, took him firmly by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Justin. Listen to me. Have you even met the guy?" Justin shook his head. "Then you can't know anything about him, ok?"

 

"But-"

 

"NO buts. So what if he's younger than she is? You can hardly complain about age difference, Justin, look at us. So he's young, and a teacher, and drives a motorcycle. So your Mom gets to have some fun again. Be happy for her." Justin had deflated slightly, but still looked rebellious. "At least reserve judgment until you meet the guy, OK? He might not be that bad." Justin nodded reluctantly.

 

"Now, go out and have some fun. Go to Babylon, dance; get your dick sucked. You need to release some tension."

 

"It's too early," Justin mumbled, but he looked happier at the idea.

 

"Then go to Woody's, and then go dancing. I might even meet you there if I can get all this work done."

 

Justin looked at him suspiciously. "We said no more burying ourselves in work."

 

"I know, I know," Brian said hastily. "But I took on a lot and I have to get it cleared before I can take a break. Even if I am the boss," he added as Justin opened his mouth to protest.

 

"You'll really meet me there later?" Justin asked. Brian had basically avoided any social situation since he had got his memory back beyond getting hammered and getting laid, none of which he had done with Justin. It would be good for him, Justin thought, to just spend an ordinary evening dancing and having fun.

 

"If I can," Brian assured him, and then turned back to the computer.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

It was close to 10:00 and Brian was just about finished, leaving him easily enough time to meet Justin at Babylon. He felt a small amount of trepidation at the idea of going; he had frequented the place recently, but it had been a while since he had been there and not been completely high or drunk. Not that he intended to stay completely sober now, but enough that he could keep an eye on Justin.

 

He was about to go and change when the buzzer went, and grateful for the excuse to put off going out for a little longer he buzzed the person up without thinking to check who it was. He had just thrown on a sleeveless black top and tight black jeans when a small, polite knock came at the door. He opened it to be confronted by Jennifer Taylor.

 

"Hello, Brian," she said with a smile, her days of clashing with Brian Kinney long over.

 

"Mother Taylor," Brian greeted her. "What can I do for you on this fine evening? Shouldn't you be at home in bed, such a fine law abiding citizen like yourself? Why, it'll be midnight in just a few short hours, and you have a little girl at home to care for."

 

Jennifer chuckled. "Molly's staying at a friend’s. Although goodness knows she's not much of a little girl anymore. I was just wondering if Justin was in. I dropped rather a bombshell when I saw him earlier. He said that he was fine with it but...."

 

"Yes," Brian said dryly, "he was a little upset when he came back."

 

"I'm willing to bet that's an understatement," Jennifer said wryly, smiling a little sadly. Brian smiled back. More than anyone else, Brian Kinney could commiserate with Jennifer on the trials and tantrums of one Justin Taylor.

 

"So, if he's here," Jennifer went on.

 

"I'm afraid I sent him out to play. _Dance_ out some of the anger, if you will," Brian told her.

 

"And you were just on your way to join him," Jennifer exclaimed, taking in his outfit. "Goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

 

"Don't worry about it," Brian told her firmly. "Just come and see us tomorrow. I'm sure that Justin will come around."

 

"I hope so," Jennifer admitted, with a worried look in her face. "Well, I'll leave you to finish getting ready." She made as though to leave, but stopped at the last minute. "Brian, I don't mean to pry, but is everything quite alright?"

 

"It's fine, Mother Taylor," Brian insisted, but she kept talking.

 

"Oh, I know you'll tell me that, but Justin tells me things too, you know. He told me all about the amnesia, about the fight you had when your memory came back. Oh, don't worry," she hastened to add, when he arched an eyebrow at her questioningly. "He tells me things he wouldn't dream of telling anyone else. We were always so close when he was younger, and I like to think we have been again in the past few years."

 

"Enough that you can tease him about his sex life," Brian teased her in turn.

 

Jennifer smiled but didn't respond; instead she moved past Brian into the loft.

 

"Nice try," she said, “but I had to deal with an elusive gay son for years, I know when someone is trying to change the subject. Justin says he won't go back until you admit that you love him, and then he disappears in the middle of the night with a note saying that you called, and then he's moved back in and oh!" She broke off at the sight of Brian's face. "You told him, didn't you? You told him that you love him?"

 

Slowly, Brian nodded.

 

"Then I don't understand what the problem is," Jennifer said, throwing her hands up in the air. "The both of you have been hiding away from each other the past couple of weeks. If you told him that, why the fuck aren't the two of you living out your honeymoon phase for the hundredth time?"

 

Brian's whole body slumped, and the cheerful mask he had been keeping in place for Jennifer's benefit slipped entirely away. "You sure you want to hear this?" he heard himself ask. He couldn't quite believe he was going to do this, but the burden of carrying this knowledge around with him was beginning to tell, and he felt as though he needed to get it out.

 

Jennifer gripped him by the arm and gently guided him over to the sofa. "I may never have met her, but from what I've heard, your mother is a vicious cunt," Jennifer said.

 

Brian snorted. "You're not wrong."

 

"You love my son. You call me Mother Taylor. As far as I'm concerned, you are my son. That means that I want to hear it all, to hear anything so that I can try to help."

 

Brian looked in he deep blue eyes, so similar to Justin's and relaxed. To trust, to love, is to be strong, he told himself. And this pain was so heavy.

 

"We know why I got amnesia," he said carefully. "The night it happened Justin left, and my mother turned up, to give me one last chance to be a good little Christian boy," he said sarcastically. "But something she said triggered off these memories that I'd blocked out for years. My mind couldn't cope, so it just blocked out everything that had happened since I met Justin. It was seeing my Mom that brought the past five years back eventually. But the whole time I had amnesia I kept having these dreams about my Dad that I could never remember the end of.

 

"Then after Justin left I dreamt that he was alive in front of me, and choking me to death." His voice broke a little on these words, but Jennifer rubbed his back soothingly and he went on. "I remembered what my Mom had said the night it happened.’You're father always loved you.' It all led back to him. So I went to his grave that night. And it all came rushing back."

 

Jennifer could barely speak. She wanted desperately to believe that it wasn't what she thought it was, but Brian had always known that his father had physically abused him. How much worse would it have to be for him to block it out entirely? What else could it be but...

 

"He used to rape me." Brian said the words with calm consideration, as though testing them to make sure that they were real. Jennifer's arm fell limply from his back; she sat staring into space, in shock. Brian didn't look at her. "So, I guess you were right, Jennifer," he said, taking her silence as a rejection and mentally strengthening himself in preparation for more pain. "I am too wrong, too dirty, for your son."

 

"No!" The word sounded as though it had been torn out of her. "No! If you're not good enough for him then neither am I."

 

Brian stared at her, but she couldn't meet his gaze. Finally she stood up and began to pace. "It was my junior year of college," she said. "I was invited to a party, but although I knew the people having it, it wasn't really to my taste. I went a little wild in college, but everyone knew better than to go to one of those parties." Brian nodded, although Jennifer wasn't looking at him. "But then that day I went to visit my boyfriend and I found him in bed with another woman."

 

Brian resisted the urge to once again point out the futility of a monogamous lifestyle. It didn't seem like the right time. "So I thought, 'what the hell,' and I went to the party. I thought I'd get drunk, maybe even get stoned or get laid." Jennifer was less careful about her language than she used to be, but this was a little much, even now.

 

"Big mistake. I remember feeling sick and dizzy, and then this guy was leading me upstairs, and the next thing I know I was left alone on the bed with my dress torn and my underwear gone, crying my eyes out." Her voice was cracking and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Craig found me. I begged him not to tell anyone and he didn't. But he took care of me. I latched onto him after that and really became the good girl I was always expected to be. I loved him," she said, somewhat defiantly, as though expecting Brian to refute the claim. He stayed silent.

 

"I loved him," she repeated, "but I also wanted a normal life where I wouldn't be in any danger from the real world and he gave that to me all too happily. It took the situation with Justin to really snap me out of it."

 

There was silence in the loft for a moment, and then Jennifer resumed pacing, the click of her heels on the hardwood floors the only sound.

 

Finally, Brian spoke. "He was coming to tell you today," he offered, unsure of what else to say. "I told him he could, he wanted you to know."

 

"Oh," Jennifer brought her hand to her mouth. "And I told him about me and Tucker," she exclaimed. "I must have.... oh, I shouldn't have done that."

 

"I didn't tell you so that you would feel guilty," Brian said, coming up behind her. "Just so that you know he does trust you. You're important to him. As to what you told him today, you couldn't have known what was going on."

 

"But I knew something was," Jennifer protested, but Brian cut in over her,

 

"NO buts. He'll get over it. He needed to know." Then he scrubbed a hand over his face. "You know, I think there needs to be a law which says I only have to deal with one Taylor drama a day. Two is pushing it."

 

Jennifer finally turned around, and Brian could see that she had been crying. "Poor Brian," she said. "I've been babbling about my problems, and Justin has his, but you're the one this happened to, aren't you? How are you feeling?"

 

Brian looked at the ground, but Jennifer guided him over to the sofa again. "How do you do it?" Brian finally burst out. "I have no idea how I am still alive; it feels like my heart is being crushed inside me. I keep waiting for it to stop hurting, but it won't. It just fucking won't."

 

"No, it won't," Jennifer told him, her voice full of compassion.

 

"Then what do I do?"

 

"You keep on living. You talk about it when you need to, scream out when you need to, f-fuck when you need to. You live."

 

Brian smiled at her small stumble when she spoke about fucking but it didn't stay on his face for long. "I'm not sure I can," he told her.

 

"Of course you can," she told him. "You have been."

 

Brian snorted. "And how well did that turn out?"

 

"But it's got better, hasn't it? I could tell when Justin saw me today, he was uncomfortable, but when I spoke about you his eyes lit up. Although," she cautioned, "you can't just rely on him. He might be strong enough to do it, in fact I think he is, but you cannot allow yourself to become dependent on one person. It isn't healthy, no matte how much you love him. You could go to therapy," she suggested, "or talk to me," she added, when he snorted derisively at the suggestion. "Or tell someone else. Your friends love you, Brian. And I love you too, my son."

 

She stood. "I'd better go. I'll come and see Justin soon, and talk to him, try and get things sorted out." She already had the door open when she turned back to him. "He can't know," she said.

 

Brian looked up sharply. "He's not...."

 

She shook her head. "I didn't have him that young. He was a honeymoon child. But he still can't know. One person he loves having survived it is enough."

 

"I'm not sure I have survived it," Brian admitted.

 

She smiled at him fondly. "But you will, you know," she told him with complete certainty. "Especially with Justin on your side. He'd do anything for you."

 

"I know. I won't say a word," he promised.

 

"I know you won't," she told him. "And you will get through it. He loves you, and you love him. Lean on him. It may be corny, but love really is the greatest strength you will find in this world."

 

Brian nodded seriously. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" he offered. She still looked a little off balance.

 

"Thank you," she said, "but I need to be alone tonight. Goodnight, Brian." She closed the door behind her.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin entered the loft a little after midnight to find Brian sitting on the sofa, an untouched glass of whiskey lying close to his hand.

 

"You didn't come," he said, trying to keep his tone light, but unable to prevent a small amount of hurt from creeping into his words.

 

"Your mother came by," Brian said abruptly.

 

"Oh." Justin didn't know what to say, how to get back to the lighthearted banter of yesterday.

 

"You were right," Brian told him. "She's a good person to talk to."

 

"Yeah, she is, she - you TOLD her?!"

 

"Yeah. Clever lady, your mother. Knew something was wrong, wouldn't let it go until I admitted that there was, then hit me with the big blue eyes - I can see where you got it from now - and told me that I was as good as her son, so I might as well tell her."

 

Justin couldn't prevent a huge smile from spreading across his face. He had known for several years now that his mother accepted Brian's place in his life, but to hear that she had really called him her son meant a lot to him.

 

"So eventually I figured, what the hell, you were gonna tell her anyway, so I might as well do it first."

 

"What did she tell you?"

 

"To not become dependent on you, but to let myself lean on you. To talk when I wanted, scream when I wanted, and fuck when I wanted."

 

"My _mother_ told you to fuck me!"

 

"Missing the point here a little, Sunshine."

 

"Huh? Right, sorry, right. The point." Justin's mind was reeling. "What was the point again?"

 

Brian half wanted to laugh at his poor lover's confusion, but knew that if he didn't get this out now, he never would. "I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified of a man who'd long dead, and that's just pathetic. I'm scared to fall apart because it'll just show you how weak I am, and I'm scared to lose you because I need you, but I can't keep you from seeing how weak I am. I terrified that being in love with you will stop me from being myself, but I can't seem to help it. And I petrified about the fact that I have apparently become someone's son-in-law."

 

Justin laughed.

 

"That's it?" Brian sounded outraged. "I pour my heart out, for something like the third time in a month, which has to be a record for me, and you laugh?"

 

Just walked over and hugged him. "You stupid, stupid man. I love you so much."

 

"Huh?" Justin laughed again and kissed the bewildered look off of Brian's face.

 

"If everything you've done on purpose to me over the years hasn't driven me away do you really think this will?" He shook his head. "Brian, I love you. I don't care if you have nightmares, or you're scared of a dead man. I wish you weren't for your sake, but I am not going to leave you because of it. And as for being weak, you're the strongest person I know. No one else could have dealt with all the shit you've had to put up with as well and as strongly and bravely as you did. You are strength, Brian, you're my strength.

 

"But," he went on, smoothing his fingers of Brian's lips when it looked as though older man wanted to talk, "that doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time, ok? Sometimes, I need to be your strength. Let me be your strength, Brian, let me take care of you. You've worked so hard, it's your turn to rest now."

 

"Jesus," Brian exclaimed, "what it is with you and your Mom? The both of you are the most cheesy, sentimental people I've ever met. You just can't seem to hel-"

 

Justin swooped down and captured his lips with his own. "Enough with the sarcasm, or whatever the fuck," he admonished him sternly. "It's cheesy, fine. But I _am_ going to take care of you." He kissed him again.

 

"Justin," Brian said, somewhat breathlessly.

 

"Hmm," Justin murmured while nibbling the side of Brian's neck.

 

"You know your Mom said I should fuck whenever I wanted?"

 

Justin drew back in horror. "Jesus, Brian, once was enough! Can we please stop talking about my mother, and fucking in the same sentence?"

 

"But I wanna fuck now," Brian said beseechingly, and then dragged Justin's head down into a frantic kiss, his free hand groping at the blonde’s crotch. When he pulled away Justin's lips were flushed a bright red and his normally pale skin had a pink tint to it.

 

"I wanna fuck now," Brian said again, and Justin smiled dreamily up at him.

 

"OK," he said happily.

 

Hours later they were both lying exhausted on the bed, lying apart but with Brian's right hand lightly brushing Justin's left. Brian was just contemplating getting up enough energy to find a light a cigarette when Justin spoke.

 

"Fuck!"

 

Brian rolled his head to one side to look at him. "What?"

 

"If you spoke to my Mom, who the hell am I supposed to unload on?"

 

"Um....your Mom?" Brian suggested.

 

Justin shook his head. "No. You need her. You've got her. And I need something - separate from all this. To help me deal with it, you know?"

 

Brian did know. For a moment he wondered what the fuck he was doing confiding in the mother of the person he was trying to keep all this shit, or at least some of this shit, away from, but then he pushed the thought away. Jennifer wanted to be there for him. That was what counted.

 

"You could talk to Daphne," he offered.

 

Justin seemed to consider it for a moment, his lips rolling inwards and his eyes becoming vacant as he thought. Brian took the time to study the man beside him. 'So beautiful,' he thought, eyes travelling slowly over the expanse of pale flesh, of smooth silky skin. Lifting up his hand he combed his fingers through Justin's hair, the simple act giving him a feeling of safety and security. As long as Justin was there, it would be alright.

 

"No," Justin said again finally. "I need someone a bit more level, a bit older than me maybe. Someone who I trust but isn't....isn't, I dunno, a peer?" He paused for a minute and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I guess I'm saying I want a shrink who isn't actually a shrink - or something." He smiled a little at Brian. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

 

"Not really," Brian told him, "but I know what you mean. You could always talk to Ben."

 

"Ben?" Justin sounded surprised.

 

"Why not? You like him, he's into all that Buddhist 'live in the moment' shit; he's a fucking teacher. What more could you want?"

 

"But-" Justin hesitated, then continued. "With everything going on between you and Michael, I just don't know if he's the best person...."

 

Brian turned over onto his side so that he could look Justin fully in the face. "Justin, when that whole Ian thing happened-" Justin looked away. "No, look at me. When we weren't together, did you just disappear? Or did you still see Emmett, and Ben, and Debbie, and the girls?"

 

"Yes," Justin muttered.

 

"So just because Michael's in a snit with me doesn't mean that you can't talk to his husband. We might come as a pair now, but it doesn't make us the same person."

 

Justin smiled when Brian called the two of them a pair, but his grin faded when he thought about Michael's reaction.

 

"But when we broke up, he wanted me gone. He told me to leave. He just won't understand, Brian."

 

Brian caught Justin's hand and kissed it. "I'll make him understand. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow you have to make nice with your Mommy and have what will be one of the most harrowing conversations of your life, I can assure you."

 

Justin laughed reached up to kiss him. "You're an amazing man."

 

Brian smirked at him. "I know."

 

Justin laughed again, more loudly. "Of course you do. You don't need me to feed your ego, do you?"

 

Brian just curled himself up around Justin and pulled the sheets over them. He sighed as he felt Justin's warm skin press back against him. The pain inside might never go away, but at least here, with him, Brian was offered a brief respite.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian came back the next day to find Justin emotionally drained, having spent the morning with his mother and the afternoon with Ben, but he seemed basically happier, if tired. Brian was in the mood to go out and play after a stressful day at work, but Justin decided to get an early night, so Brian went to Babylon alone.

 

It ended up being his previously aborted first trip to anywhere other than work where he wasn't as high as a kite, and turned out to be basically anti-climatic. He dance, fucked one guy and had two others to suck him off, and reveled in sex which lacked the intensity and passion he had become used to with Justin, sex which was just about getting off.

 

He came home to find Justin asleep, but was still horny, so he woke him with a rim job and then fucked him into the mattress. Justin fell asleep again almost the moment after he came, and Brian carefully pulled out and then went to sleep with the blond clasped to his side.

 

He woke the next day to find Justin had left before him, but had left a note saying that he was helping to organize a benefit for Stop Prop 14, but would try and come and see Brian around 2:00. If Brian had any special requests as to his outfit or anything he might want to play with, Justin was perfectly willing to comply.

 

Brian laughed at the note, jerked off in the shower, and went into work where he greeted the intern who held the door open with a friendly good morning, which she stuttered back in his direction long after he had forgotten she was there. It was shaping up to be the best day he had had in months, despite waking up alone, until Michael walked in.

 

"What do you want?" Brian said harshly. Any encounter with Michael these days seemed to be an exercise in defending every last aspect of his life, from tricking to his ability to be a father.

 

"I want to know what your _boyfriend_ ," and Michael's face twisted into an ugly sneer as he said the word, "has been doing to my husband!"

 

Carefully keeping his face neutral Brian hesitated before answering. Had it been anyone else he would have confronted them head on, but it was Michael, his best friend, the guy that had always stood up for him no matter what. He didn't want to rip him to shreds the way he would any other person.

 

"Shouldn't you be asking Justin this?" he questioned Michael.

 

Michael waved a hand dismissively, his face contemptuous. "I can't control him. But he'll do everything you say. And whatever the fuck he said to Ben he wouldn't have done it without asking you first. But Ben is **my** husband. He's got enough to worry about with Hunter and everything. He's not supposed to get stressed out and if Justin cared about him he'd know that. So when I see Ben pale and not eating after talking to that little shit I want to know what the fuck he did."

 

BANG!

 

Brian's hands slammed down onto his desk, the sound echoing around his office.

 

"Let me make several thing abundantly clear to you," he ground out, his body tense with the effort not to move around the desk to grab Michael by his shoulders and shake him. "No one controls Justin. No you, not me, not anyone. If he wants to talk to Ben that is his business. And if Ben wants to help Justin with something that I am," Brian paused for a moment and grimaced, "unfortunately unable to help him with then," and his voice lowered and took on a tone of sarcasm, "you should feel lucky to have such a generous and loving husband."

 

Despite the sarcasm in his last words - keep up the persona, never let it slip for a minute, never let them know you care - he had meant every word. "Now if you wouldn't mind leaving...."

 

"Yes, I would fucking mind," Michael shrilled. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Am I not supposed to care about my husband? I guess I'm not supposed to give a shit about anything, just like you. Just treat Ben like a piece of shit, and let Jenny Rebecca forget that I fucking exist. You're a shitty partner and a shitty father, and just because I've followed you around for years does not mean that I have to be like you. You might as well just leave Gus and Justin before you fuck up their lives for good, just like your Dad did to you!"

 

Before he had even realized what had happened Brian was around his desk, one arm on Michael's shoulder, the other at his throat, pushing him back against the wall. "Listen to me, you. Little. Shit." Punctuating the words that Michael couldn't seem to help but slip back to using when referring to Justin.

 

"You have no idea what my old man was like, and you can thank God that you don't. I am **not** a shitty partner, and I will **never** fuck up Gus the way my Dad did to me. Now you get out, and you don't come near me again, do you understand?" Michael nodded, his eyes wide with fright. Brian looked at him for a long moment, then released him and turned away, gripping the side of his desk so hard that his knuckles turned white.

 

"Brian," Michael said hesitantly, but Brian flinched at the sound.

 

"Get out," he spat, refusing to look at Michael. The shorter man opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it, looked around helplessly and left. Brian let out a deep sigh and reached for the phone.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin let himself out of Ben and Michael's house and just stood for a moment, letting the cold winter air seep into his skin and help calm him down. He was glad Brian had suggested he talk to Ben. He had felt guilty at first, knowing what a hard time the man was already having dealing with the loss of Hunter, but Ben had reassured him on that count.

 

Not only was he happy to listen to Justin, but the whole thing kept his mind off the situation of his missing foster son. In return Justin listened to Ben talk about Hunter; Ben was eager for any opportunity to discuss him, and grateful to find someone who understood his need not to let go of hope just yet. Their talks left them both emotionally drained, but with a peace of mind neither had expected to achieve.

 

As Justin left he saw Michael coming towards him. Feeling particularly kindly towards him at that moment, despite his behavior towards Brian, he raised a hand in friendly greeting, but Michael just brushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. Justin felt like yelling after him, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He was too tired for a confrontation.

 

Instead he shrugged, put it down to some kind of ridiculous transference and shrugged the whole thing off. Right now he just wanted to get home to Brian.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Michael was fuming. How dare Brian treat him like that? And how dare Justin come to _his_ home, upset _his_ husband, when both he and Brian had basically been treating him like dirt for weeks. And after all he had done for them when Brian had amnesia. Wait till Ben heard about this.

 

Storming into the house he didn't notice the pensive look on Ben's face, instead launching into a long diatribe about Brian the moment he saw his husband. It wasn't until Ben heard the words 'pinned me to the wall,' that he actually heard anything that Michael had said.

 

"What?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Michael, slow down. I can't understand you when you get like this." He gripped Michael's arms and looked down into his eyes. "What happened?"

 

"Don't you listen to anything I say?" Michael complained. "I said that Brian pinned me to the wall. Stupid asshole."

 

Although the man frustrated him beyond belief at times Ben loved Michael very much, and his first instinct upon hearing that he had been attacked was to go after the person that threatened him, but knowing what Brian had been going through made him pause long enough to find out what had actually happened.

 

"And why," he managed to get out, "did he do that exactly?"

 

Michael looked sheepish. "I said some stuff," he mumbled.

 

"What stuff?" Ben asked patiently.

 

"Just some stuff about him and Gus, and Justin, and his Dad. He was being an asshole," he defended himself when he saw the angry look in Ben's eyes, and realized that it was directed towards him. "I was worried about you, and what's been going on with Justin, but he didn't seem to care!" Michael was babbling now. "Then he tried defending him, and made out like _I_ was the bad guy, and I just-"

 

"Michael!" Ben snapped out. "You already asked me about Justin and I told you everything was ok. Why wasn't that enough?"

 

"Because I could see that you weren't ok!" Michael protested. "First you wouldn't tell me what it was about, and looked pale and shaky, and then you said that he spoke to you about Hunter. What's he bringing that up for? The last thing you need is to be reminded of all that."

 

"Michael," Ben tried again. "I didn't tell you what it was about because Justin asked me to keep it private. That's something I respect. If Brian told you that he wanted you to keep something a secret, you would, wouldn't you?"

 

Michael nodded. "But Brian's my best friend," he added, almost as an afterthought.

 

"No, he's not," Ben sighed, "not if you're acting like this. Michael, you have to understand that not everyone feels the same way you do. Just because you want to pull a blanket over the whole thing with Hunter doesn't mean that I do. I _need_ to remember him right now. And I talked about him to Justin because I wanted to, and not because he did.

 

"And simply because Brian is no longer leading the same kind of life as you, does not mean that you should condemn him. And to use his family, Gus, and Justin, and Jack against him - it's just plain cruel. How did you think he would react to that?"

 

"Maybe I went a little over the top," Michael admitted. "But he still didn't have to push me against the fucking wall! And you have to admit that he hasn't done a stellar job as a father, a son, or a partner."

 

"I know that Brian would do anything for Gus. I know that it would be impossible for anyone to be the perfect son for Jack Kinney. And I know that Brian loves Justin, or he wouldn't have given him permission to tell me all this stuff about him."

 

"You and Justin have been talking about Brian?" Michael asked surprised, ignoring everything else that Ben had said. "But then of course you can tell me. Brian wouldn't mind. We share everything."

 

"Not this," Ben said firmly. "You and Brian haven't been close for a while, and the only reason I know about this was because Justin needed someone to talk to who was objective to the situation. I promised him before he said a word that I wouldn't tell anyone, not even you."

 

"But Ben-"

 

"NO, Michael. Just, just leave it, ok? If you want to treat Brian as if he's less than you then you're going to have to put up with being a much smaller part of his life. I'm not saying anything else about it."

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian arrived at home early. He had picked up the phone to call Jennifer or Justin after his debacle with Michael, but swinging between one person and the other he hadn't been able to decide. Calling Justin was appealing, but he felt guilty about continually heaping him with his problems, especially as he knew Justin had gone to see Ben again that day. He would be tired and not ready to deal with another problem.

 

Jennifer didn't have the same guilty associations; Brian had no trouble using people when he needed to, but his old sense of pride, of wanting to do things for himself, held him back. It had felt natural to speak to her the other day but now it felt a little weird, and too much like asking for help. He had learnt to lean of Justin without appearing to ask for help, but he couldn't do the same with Jennifer.

 

In the end he had put the phone down, finished the file he was working on, and got straight on with the rest, pushing himself back into his work. But he had promised to cut down on his work load, and by three o'clock, he had finished his quota for the day. He was tempted to do more, but had instead packed up and gone home. If he couldn't lose himself in work, he'd go and lose himself in Justin.

 

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Justin was at home as well. The moment he walked in the door and saw the blond sitting sketching on the sofa, he had wanted him. Justin had apparently felt the same way. Brian had barely had time to close the door before Justin had jumped on him, kissing and biting wherever he could reach. Then he took Brian to bed, and although Brian was on top, it was clear to both of them who was in control.

 

As Brian lay in bed afterwards, a cigarette dangling between his lips, Justin did nothing but curl up against him. Brian sighed in relief as he realized that he had been granted a reprieve from a post coital talk. Justin felt the sigh and laughed, but still said nothing. Brian's arm curled around him, hugging him to his side.

 

It wasn't until much later, when Justin was making dinner, that he really said anything at all.

 

"What happened today?"

 

Brian looked up in surprise, and then gave a non committal grunt. He had no desire to discuss what Michael had done.

 

"I may be blond, but I'm not stupid," Justin said as he chopped parsley. "What happened?"

 

"Do I really have to talk about it?" Brian asked with a groan. The whole situation seemed dangerously lesbionic.

 

"No," Justin said shortly, and turned away to strain some lettuce.

 

The silence stretched on and on, broken only by the occasional clang from Justin's cooking, until Brian couldn't bear it any longer.

 

"Michael came round to see me today." Brian spoke with a carefully casual tone.

 

"Really?"

 

"Said a lot of shit about you and Ben. Wanted me to make you stop seeing him."

 

Justin laughed. "As if you could."

 

"That's what I said."

 

"Besides," Justin went on," "Ben needs me as much as I need him right now." Brian looked at him questioningly. "Michael doesn't like talking about Hunter," Justin said with a shrug. "Does Ben some good to talk about him. Helps him get it out of his system, you know?"

 

Brian smiled at the unsubtle hint. "He said that I should leave you before I hurt you worse that I already have. Then he said I should leave Gus alone before I fucked up the way Jack did to me."

 

Justin froze for a moment, but then he carried on washing the chicken breasts he was holding. Every part of him wanted to go and hold Brian, but he know the older man needed to get this out.

 

"I was so angry at him, you know?" Brian said almost wonderingly. "I pinned him up against the fucking wall and told him to get out." Inwardly Justin cheered. Although he didn't want Brian to make a habit of assaulting his friends, the slip of his calm, collected persona showed Justin that Brian was breaking through even more of his walls.

 

"But now, I just keep thinking," Brian went on, "what if I never do see him again? On the way I home I thought I saw him on every street corner I passed. I think I'm going to miss him," he finished slowly.

 

"So this is really it?" Justin asked. "You're just never going to see him again?"

 

Brian considered it for a moment. "No, I suppose I will. We're both still part of the 'family' after all. But even if we get back on even ground - and I'm not sure we will - we won't be best friends anymore. We won't be 'Brian and Mikey.'

 

Justin finally abandoned the food to come and put his arms around Brian, wrapping himself loosely around Brian from behind, and gently kissing his neck just below his ear.

 

"It'll be ok," he said. "You've got me. You've got Gus. Fuck, you've even got my Mom, and Ted, come to think of it, if he's got over the 29 year old version of you yet."

 

"You lasted longer than I thought you would," Brian told him.

 

"Huh?"

 

"I had a bet on to see how long it would take you to stop messing with the fucking meal, which you know neither of us is going to eat, and pay some attention to me."

 

"Aah, are you feeling neglected?

 

"One part of me is," Brian pouted, pulling on one of Justin's hands until it reached his hard on, his semi erect dick tenting his pants.

 

"You just fucked me a few hours ago," Justin laughed.

 

"But it's been almost four days since you blew me," Brian informed him, sounding plaintive.

 

Justin laughed again. "Aaw, poor baby," he teased. But he still spun Brian round and dropped to his knees. As his dick became fully hard inside Justin's mouth Brian sighed. Life could still be good.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Later that night Justin snuck out of bed. He and Brian had forgotten about dinner and headed to Babylon. They had only fucked each other there, but had brought home a toy. Or two. Justin grinned at the memory. It was fun to do group activities with Brian. He knew so many ways to stop them from getting bored.

 

Checking to make sure that Brian was still asleep he picked up the phone and called his mother, knowing that she would still be asleep, and leaving a message on her machine.

 

He didn't tell her what had gone wrong, just that he thought Brian might appreciate a visit the next day. Then deciding that being circumspect about it was useless especially when Brian was asleep, he asked if she would take to dropping round quite regularly. "He won't go to you if you're not around," he explained. "He just can't." The machine cut him off in the process of saying goodbye and he hung up, grimacing.

 

He wasn't quite sure that he was doing the right thing but he knew that somehow his mother had got through to Brian. Even if he was slightly shocked at her method. He also knew that however happy Brian was that Justin had Ben he wouldn't allow himself to look for the same thing. Leaning on Justin was one thing; he'd had five years to learn how; Justin knew that he would not go to Jennifer Taylor without at least a little push.

 

He climbed quietly back into bed.

 

"I always know when you wake up, you know?"

 

Justin jumped, and almost let out a shriek, but caught himself in time. He glared at Brian. "Then what about all the times I wake up before you? Half the pictures I have of you are done asleep. You can't stay still enough the rest of the time."

 

"I pretend," Brian whispered in his ear. "I love it when you draw me."

 

"Even that first time?" Justin remained skeptical. "That sketch I gave to GLC? You seemed pretty surprised to see it at Mel and Linds'"

 

"Even that first time," Brian confirmed. "I'm a brilliant actor. And I hadn't seen the finished product before. But it was hot, knowing you were watching me like that. It always is. Why do you think I always wake up wanting to fuck when you do that?"

 

"And I thought it was my great ass," Justin joked. He was relieved that Brian did not seem to have heard his message to his Mom.

 

"It is," Brian agreed. "Your - voyeuristic - tendencies are just an added bonus."

 

Justin leaned forward to kiss Brian but his lover pulled back. "Uh uh," he said warningly. "What about that message you left for Mother Taylor? You've been a bad boy, Justin."

 

Justin blushed, but stood his ground. "You know it's true," he protested. "you won't go and see her, and you need her." He held still and then relaxed when he heard Brian's soft chuckle.

 

"Brat," Brian said, and then pulled him into a kiss. Justin returned it, and then turned onto his side, his back to Brian. They were both quite sore after a heavy night of fucking so Brian didn't try anything, just pressed small kisses to the side of Justin's neck as he spooned behind him.

 

"Brat," he whispered to him again as he drifted off to sleep. He wasn't sure but he though he heard Justin laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having re-read this chapter before posting, I feel obliged to point out that it was written when I was a teenager, and vaguely obsessed with vampires. However, this was written before the rise of the Twilight books, and I am not, nor will I ever be, a Twilight fan.


	7. Being A Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin have dinner with Jennifer and Tucker, and the family turns out to be oddly incestuous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: this chapter refers to sexual abuse of a child by their parent, consensual sex with a minor by an adult, and homophobic violence.

Somewhat timidly Jennifer knocked on the door to the loft. Justin had given her his key earlier when she had told him that she would go and visit Brian but she knew that her son’s lover was a man who very much valued his privacy. With everything else that had happened to him recently she could not bring her self to violate one of the few rights that he had been left untouched. The door didn’t slide open, and she was just turning to leave when she heard the scratch of metal on metal. Slowly, far too slowly, it seemed, the door somehow managed to actually slither open. Brian stood on the other side. Stark naked.

Jennifer laughed and her hand automatically moved to cover her eyes, but then stopped half way. It hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before she let it drop to her side. Brian just continued to stand there and it was so similar to the scene that she had walked in on only a few years ago that she couldn’t help but draw comparisons. Justin’s past crisis, and Brian’s present one. Back then, of course, she hadn’t been able to see the pain that Brian was carrying around with him, just as sharp and guilty as her own. Despite knowing, believing, that he cared for Justin all she had been able to see was the man that had taken her son away from her, and who she was having to lower herself to ask to do the same again. She couldn’t then see the pain in the harsh arrogant lines of his body.

But now, standing at his door as she had back then, it was suddenly obvious. The powerful body slumped slightly, but with a tension throughout, a wariness against hurt that Jennifer could hardly bear to see. And he just stood there in front of her, letting her see it, whether he meant to or not. That, more than anything, showed Jennifer how hurt had been, because Brian never let anyone see him like that. If nothing else good ever came out of what had happened to her she was glad that she could help him now.

“Justin says that you won’t see Gus,” she said finally, abruptly spitting out the first thought that came into her head.

Brian stood back from the door. “Justin has a big mouth,” he said curtly. Jennifer took that as her cue to go in.

“He also said that Michael went to see you yesterday. Brian,” she cast around helplessly for the right words, “I just – I’m here. He’s here. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

Brian chuckled bitterly. “Of course I do,” he corrected her. “I’m Brian fucking Kinney. Or at least that’s what Michael thinks.” He looked down at his hands and Jennifer couldn’t help but notice them. Long elegant fingers with carefully manicured nails. Nothing like Justin’s, who bit his nails and had surprisingly thick hands for an artist. If she didn’t know better she could take Brian for a piano player. Of course maybe she didn’t know better. She didn’t know everything about him after all. But somehow she couldn’t imagine him sitting and playing.

Looking down at himself seemed to finally bring Brian to a realisation of his nakedness and slowly he walked into the bedroom, dragging his feet. “So, what do you want, Mother Taylor?” he drawled once he was dressed, loping down the stairs to come to a rest in front of her. “D’you want to absolve me of my sins?” His tone was dry, sarcastic, but in his eyes she could see a flicker of hope.

“I want you to go and see your son,” she replied gently. “Brian, I’m a mother. I know what it’s like to feel as though you are losing your child. I – “ She faltered for a moment, but continued. “I hated you for a long time, because of that. Until I learned that you weren’t taking him away from me. You were just looking after him for me when I couldn’t.”

Brian snorted. “Yeah, I bet you thought that he was real safe with me when he was running round with the Posse. Or during all those cosy dinners you had with him and Ian.”

Jennifer looked a little hurt. “Don’t try to change the subject. You need to hear this. And for that matter, I think you need a few other things as well.” She took a deep breath and then forged ahead. “My family haven’t met Tucker yet, and he suggested we have a – a meeting. My mother, and my brother and sisters are coming to dinner. I think that as none of them have met you, or for that matter, seen Justin for some years-“

“Since he came out,” Brian muttered under his breath.

“- it would be a good idea for you to be there as well,” Jennifer continued, without any sign that she had even heard Brian.

“No.” There was no fucking way he was going to the breeder dinner from hell, or expose Justin to it either.

“Yes,” Jennifer snapped, he voice as hard as nails.

“No?” Brian tried again, but it sounded weak, even to him.

“Yes,” Jennifer repeated.

“Yes.” Brian’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “But don’t think for a fucking second that I’m gonna put up with any hetero bullshit. Or that I’m gonna be the perfect hubby for the night. They can take me as I am, or not at all.”

With her smile returned Jennifer laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Of course,” she replied, every inch the refined lady. “But just so you know, Brian,” her eyes flashed and Brian could see a hint of the stubborn person she had been not two moments before, “we, Justin and I, can take you as you are too. As you really are.” Her hand rubbed soothing circles onto his back and he leaned into it for a moment without thinking, before he abruptly flinched away. Jennifer didn’t look at all affronted, just placed her arm back at her side. “Just think about it.”

Brian grunted.

“I can see that I disturbed you sleeping.” She looked pointedly down at his sweats, which were slipping of his narrow hips, and his old, too tight, T-shirt. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

Brian said nothing, just watching as she left. She was almost out of the door, and he was beginning to think that he had got away with it when she turned and spoke to him again. “Brian? Do go and see your son. I know it must be hard-“

“It’s always hard,” Brian muttered under his breath, but this time Jennifer really didn’t hear.

“-but you really should. Gus needs his father.”

Brian heaved a sigh, and getting up, padded over to the door. “Goodbye, Mother Taylor,” he said in slightly sing-song voice. He bent down to kiss her cheek, and then rolled the door closed behind her.

>>>

Justin entered the loft to find Brian sitting slumped on the sofa, his head buried in his hands. He dropped everything in his hands, shoved the door closed and hurried over to him. "Brian?" he inquired anxiously. "Brian, what's wrong?"

"We," Brian informed him, his voice muffled by his fingers, "are having dinner with your Mother, and her boy toy. Not only that," he continued, when Justin let out a sound of disbelief, "Your grandmother, uncle and aunts, who have not had the pleasure of meeting either Tucker or myself, will also be attending."

"Fuck." Justin sat down heavily next to Brian. "Fuck."

"So, how's the family gonna like meeting the lovers of the Taylor's, both of whom are entirely inappropriate without the age difference?"

"Er..." Justin hesitated. "You remember what my Mom was like with you when we first started going out?"

"We were not going out," Brian protested automatically. "You were stalking me."

Justin glared. "Whatever the fuck. The point being, you remember what she was like. I practically had to hide from her here." Brian flashed back to the day Jennifer Taylor had barged into his office and demanded that he take care of her son. The woman had balls; he'd say that, much for her.

"I remember."

"Well, multiply that by four, and you get an idea of how they're going to treat Tucker."

"Tucker?" Brian suddenly felt very nervous. "And how exactly are they going to react to me?"

"I'm the baby of the family, Brian," Justin said, looking at him innocently. "I'm my grandmother's little darling. Her first grandchild. And you're the vastly older man who corrupted innocent little me and taught me how to take it up the ass. The man who lead me astray. The man on whom I based a pornographic gay comic book. The man-"

"Ok, ok, I get it, Sunshine," Brian interrupted. "You're saying, I'm fucked."

"What I'm saying is that we'll be lucky if I don't come out of there believing you're a monster."

"You already do, Sunshine."

"No, you just like to pretend you are. You're just a big ole' Teddy Bear."

"Teddy Bear!" Brian looked supremely affronted. "I am not a Teddy Bear."

"Really?" Justin smile at him mischievously. "Cos you sure seem like one to me. You're big and hairy, and growly and cuddly, and I like to hold onto you at night."

"That's it," Brian said solemnly. "You can't pretend you don't deserve it." And with no more warning he pounced on Justin and began to tickle his sides. Within minutes Justin was laughing and gasping for breath, and then somehow they were rubbing together and kissing, and Brian's hand sneaked up from Justin's ribs into his hair and they were both gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.

And Brian remembered exactly why he kept going, why he had kept pushing through all the bullshit that life had thrown at him. For the perfect moments, just like this one, where he could be an ordinary man, being with the man he loved. Then he wondered when he had turned into a dyke.

Finally, he decided it didn't matter.

Some time later, Brian told Justin about Jennifer's suggestion that he go see Gus.

"That's a good idea," Justin told him. "Do you want to go today?"

Brian didn't reply, just stared moodily at the ceiling from his vantage point on the bed. Yes he wanted to go today. But how could he say that he was too mother fucking scared to see his own son?

"Brian?" Justin tried again. "What - what happened, when you went to see Gus? Why couldn't you go back?" Justin didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. His own imagination had made him feel sick, and he knew that whatever had kept Brian away from his son would probably be worse than anything he could come up with in his head.

"You don't want to know," Brian informed him, his voice carefully controlled.

"Of course not," Justin agreed. "But I want you to tell me."

"There's a difference?" Brian rolled onto his side and looked Justin in the face, a blank look falling over his eyes to keep his emotions hidden from the world outside.

"Stop equivocating, Brian," Justin snapped, when all he wanted to do was hold Brian and forget a world, a person, which could hurt a little boy that way. "Why can't you go back?"

Brian moved away, onto his back again, leaving Justin without any clues as to what he was feeling. Then, "you know why I can't go back. You've imagined it yourself, I know you have. When I saw him, all I could see was me doing to him what my Dad did to me. How can I be around him when I know all this? What if I-"

"What if you what?" Justin exploded. He was angry now, not at Brian, but at Jack, so angry that a stupid old man had managed to almost ruin Brian's life, had managed to almost ruin their relationship, and was now well on the way to ruining Brian's relationship with his son. And all from beyond the grave.

Now though, Justin deliberately turned that anger onto his lover. Brian couldn't always be mollycoddled. Brian had to push through this himself.

"What if you rape Gus?" he asked him, each word said heavily, with great deliberation. "You stupid little idiot. You know that you could never rape Gus. You know that. But you're so fucking scared of a few pictures in your head that you use that as an excuse not to go and see him. Well, well done Mr Kinney," he sneered, slowly clapping his hands.

"You've really done it. You've let Jack win. You've shown the world you really are a weak fucking fairy, just like he always said." Inside Justin's heart was breaking at the look on Brian's face, but he hardened his heart. He had tried too many times to persuade Brian that he was a good person. Now Brian had to do it for himself.

The bewildered look on Brian's face hardened into one of resolve. Justin held his breath waiting to see what would happen. Brian opened his mouth, closed it, then without a word grabbed a jacket and stomped out of the loft. Justin stared after him. Brian turned when he reached the elevator, and gestured at him impatiently. Justin hurried after him.

The ride to Melanie's was made in stony silence, and Justin was relieved to find that he didn't need to propel them past a gatekeeper this time; exhausted by Jenny Rebecca's colic she was only to glad for a couple of extra pairs of hands, even if one of those pairs of hands was Brian's.

Brian himself just brushed past her in a stony silence, and went upstairs to see Gus. Normally Mel would have kicked up a fuss at his behaviour, but instead she raised a single eyebrow in askance at Justin. The blond couldn't help but think these two were far too similar for their own good.

"He's ah - not having the best of days," he tried to explain. "You look worn out," he rushed on when she opened her mouth to speak again. "Why don't you let me take J.R. for while and you can get some rest.

Mel looked reluctantly down at her little daughter. "Are you sure?" she asked, looking hopeful but at the same time unwilling to let the baby go.

"Of course," Justin told her. "I looked after my sister when she was younger. And after that fiasco with Gus, well," he glanced up the stairs. "Promise not to tell Brian?"

Mel nodded eagerly. "Well, I got hold of all of my Mom's old baby books and read them cover to cover. I never wanted to hurt him. He was just this tiny little life, this tiny little piece of Brian," his eyes glazed over as he remembered the little scrap of humanity that Gus used to be and Melanie looked at him in wonder. How could a person like this, so young and sweet and innocent, really fall for Brian Kinney and but up with all his bullshit? But a minute later Justin shook himself out of his thoughts.

"So," he went on, "I'm fully qualified to look after her, I promise." Melanie shook her head.

"Oh, I know you are, sweetie. I'd be happy to let you look after her. I should have asked Debbie, or even Lindz," Justin noticed that she left out Michael, "but I get so little time with her as it is."

Justin nodded sympathetically. "I know," he said. "I heard about the custody agreement."

"Yeah," Melanie snarled suddenly up in arms again, "And if Brian hadn't-" JR shifted and began to cry, and Melanie stopped ranting to soothe her back to sleep.

"Brian was only doing what he thought was right," Justin told her gently when JR had calmed down. "Think about it, Mel. He isn't nearly as involved with Gus as I know he wants to be. It broke his heart to sign him over to you. And he loves Lindsay. He didn't want her to have to go through what he did."

Mel softened slightly. "I suppose you might be right," she admitted. "But what's happening isn't right for Jenny Rebecca. Being passed between three homes. I wish I could do something, but I just can't - I can't think straight. I'm so tired."

"So sleep. I know you want to spend time with her, but you're not doing her any good if you're too tired to take care of her."

Mel nodded, and reluctantly handed JR over to him. "I'll just go and check on Brian and Gus on my way up," she said as she turned to go.

"Don't," Justin bit out, a little too hard. Mel looked at him, surprised. "Sorry," he apologised. "Just, Brian really needs this. Please don't disturb him."

"Justin, what's going on?" Mel questioned him. "I thought the amnesia was over, but you've turned up again demanding to see Gus, and saying that Brian needs to see him. It's like de ja vu all over again."

"The whole amnesia thing just left him with some issues," Justin said evasively. "Gus can help him work them out. I hope."

"Well as long as he isn't going to upset Gus..." Justin breathed a sigh of relief, and was actually grateful for Melanie being so tired. Any other way and she would have tried to badger the truth out of him.

"He won't," he assured her, and watched as she left him to go to bed. Then he sat down and rocked JR in his arms. "What's happening with your brother and his Daddy?" he asked her. "Do you know what's going on, baby girl?"

Jenny blew out a bubble of spit and wriggled slightly in his arms. "That's what I thought too," he told her solemnly. Then he held onto her tight and made himself a promise that he would never let any child be hurt the way Brian had. They were all far too precious, even if they were made out of Melanie and Michael. On cue Jenny woke up and began to cry.

>>>

Brian carefully opened the door to Gus’ room, flashing back as he did so to his previous venture here, when it felt as if he were meeting Gus for the first time. He wasn’t sure when he had been more terrified, then or now, but the gut wrenching nausea climbing its way from his stomach to his throat felt horribly familiar.

He was so careful in opening the door that Gus, who was concentrating hard on a model castle that was built out of Lego, didn’t hear him come in. Preparing himself for the worst, Brian looked down at his little son. That same wave of protectiveness that he felt every time he saw him, from the night Gus had been, born washed over Brian, but that was all. No images filling his brain, no fear, no sickness. Just his little son, who he would always look after. Who he would never hurt.

A small sob choked its way out of his throat, and Gus looked up at the noise. “Daddy,” he squealed, the same way he did every time he saw Brian, and rushed over to give him a hug. Brian hugged him back, hard, but in a minute Gus was wriggling impatiently out of his grip. “Come see,” he insisted, tugging on Brian’s hand, and Brian followed him over to the castle he had been building.

“Play with me,” Gus said imperiously.

Brian laughed. “Ok, what are we playing, Sonny Boy?”

“This.” Gus thrust a small robed figure at him, as if that explained everything.

“Uh, Lord of the Rings?” Brian ventured a guess. Normally he would know shit like this just from being around Mikey, but with the not entirely unwelcome lack of his company, and the problems which had recently been taking over his life Brian had no idea who the guy with the long white beard was supposed to be.

Gus frowned. “No, silly,” he admonished Brian. “That’s not Gandalf. It’s Dumbledore. I’m building Hogwarts.” He gestured proudly at the castle again.

“So you are, Sonny Boy,” Brian agreed with a grin. “And it’s looking good. In fact, it’s looking so good, I’m wondering if someone isn’t getting a little too big for his boots.” And then he swooped down on his son and picked him up and swung him round, while Gus shrieked with laughter.

Half an hour later Brian descended to stairs to find Justin still holding a quiet Jenny.

“Where’s Gus?” Justin asked carefully. He had heard the shrieks of laughter from upstairs, and assumed that things had gone well, but he wanted to be sure.

“I wore the kid out,” Brian said regretfully. “He’s taking a nap.” He smiled at Justin, and although he looked tired himself, Justin could see that the smile was a genuine one. He smiled a great big Sunshine smile back at him.

“Just let me put Jenny in Mel’s room and we’ll go,” he promised. Then he paused on his way up the stairs. “I’m proud of you, Brian,” he told him.

“Well, don’t pass judgement yet,” Brian replied shortly. “Wait until after your mother’s dinner party.” He gave a dramatic shudder. Justin nodded, but he could see that what he had said meant a lot to the hazel eyed man. Stopping in to check on Gus before he left, he thanked God, or whoever the fuck was up there, that Brian hadn’t lost him too. He needed all the love he could get.

>>>

Brian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Beside him Justin was wriggling even more than he was. In the unusual situation of not knowing what to do, and not being able to just go for it either because he’d promised Justin that this could be his show, Brian just stared his hands, lying folded on the knotted wood of Jennifer’s dining room table.

He said nothing. Justin said nothing. Jennifer and Tucker had been equally silent ever since the original attempt at small talk had died out. Chancing a glance up, Brian could see the other couple shifting around where they sat, in pretty much the same way he and Justin were doing. He had to do something. He opened his mouth. Justin shot him a look. He shut it. Justin squirmed.

Everyone jumped as the front doorbell rang out, announcing the arrival of the first guests. Brian breathed a sigh of relief. Just a few more moments of silence and he would have been making some joke about how much fun you could have with your mouth shut. Or full. Whatever. Justin would have killed him. Christ. He really was dick-whipped.

All thoughts fled his head as he took in the sweet old lady that came through the door. Very short, with long white hair pulled back into a bun, she was everyone’s loving grandmother. Wearing non-descript black slacks that Brian could tell came from a very expensive designer and a white cashmere sweater she dressed gracefully yet fashionably. Exactly the kind of mother he would expect Jennifer to have. Of course he normally either ignored or dismissed people like this, or on the rare occasions he had to pitch to them, he flirted with them.

Neither seemed quite appropriate at this juncture. Jennifer helped her mother off with her coat, and Justin hugged her, and called her ‘Grandmother Roe.’ Brian and Tucker stood nervously awaiting judgement.

“Well, what’s everybody just standing around for?” The old lady’s voice cracked out strong and loud, completely belying her elegant appearance. “Jennifer? Get your old mother a drink, would ya? Whiskey and soda’ll do me, darlin’.” Brian smiled. Maybe he would get on with this woman after all.

A moment later he changed his mind. ‘Grandmother Roe’ stood in front of them like an army sergeant inspecting his troops, not at all intimidated by the two men standing in front of her, despite their relative heights. She started with Brian.

“Not bad looking, I suppose,” she decided. “But far too old for him. You’re far too old for him, young man, d’you know that?” Brian suppressed the urge to laugh, but Justin came forward and laid his hand on her arm.

“C’mon, Grandma,” he said quietly, “he’s not that bad.” He smiled at Brian and Brian smiled back.

“Hmph,” the old lady sniffed. “I don’t like him. He’s too old for you. I may not approve of what you do, but if you were happy I’d be prepared to accept it. But he’s too old and far too good looking. He’ll have everyone else sniffing around him, and be off in a minute.”

That did it. Brian couldn’t hold it any more. He burst out laughing. Justin glared at him, but his grandmother just sniffed again. “Think it’s funny, do you?” she asked him. “Well, I’ll tell you something. I’ve been in charge of my family since the day my husband died, and if I say you go, you go.” Brian just kept laughing.

“I’d like to see you try and tell Justin what to do, especially when it comes to me. I can’t tell him what to do, and he’s been sleeping with me for five years.” Justin wanted to feel shocked, but in the end just figured he’d be grateful that Brian hadn’t said fucking. “In fact, go ahead,” Brian went on. “The more people tell us to stay apart, the more we seem to stay together, so you’d probably be doing me a favour.”

Instead of appearing affronted the old woman seemed more pleased than she had since she walked in the door. “I’ll reserve judgement,” she croaked out. “And you can call me Kathryn. But don’t think that means anything,” she admonished, wagging a finger in his face. “I still think you corrupted that poor innocent boy. And you’re too old.”

She turned her attention to Tucker. “And as for you. Well. You’re young enough to be her son.”

Tucker smiled confidently. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”

Kathryn sniffed. Brian was beginning to find that very annoying. “With all the ridiculous age difference going on here, you might as well be dating Brian instead of my daughter.”

“Hey,” Brian put in, “I have better taste.” It had been his real self that won Kathryn over even a little, so he figured there was no reason to hold back now.

Kathryn waved a dismissive hand at him. “Shoo,” she said. “This doesn’t concern you. And not only are you too young,” she turned back to Tucker, “You’re dating a divorced woman, not a widow. That’s just not.....”

Justin drew Brian away.

“I’m impressed,” he told him. “According to Mom only one of her boyfriends got the first name treatment.”

“Your dad?” Brian guessed.

“No,” Justin smiled. “The man she was with before him. She was just as stubborn as I was. Going for the not so nice guy, until Craig came along.”

“Your Mom has good taste.”

“But she married the wrong one.”

“Who are you going to marry, Little Sunshine?”

Brian cupped Justin’s hand with his cheek and looked deep into his eyes. Justin stared back, his blue eyes full of confusion. Then Brian burst out laughing. “Gotcha!” he crowed. Justin pulled back from his hand and glaring, took a swipe at his stomach, but his eyes were smiling for all that. Brian grabbed Justin and kissed him thoroughly.

“Ahem.”

The two of them looked up, both with glazed over expressions, to find an amused Jennifer staring at them. She opened her mouth but the peal of the doorbell cut off what she was about to say.

“Go and open the door,” she told them. “Mother’s still interrogating Tucker, and I don’t think I dare to leave them alone for any longer. And keep that,” she indicated the pair of them, “to a minimum, please. I’m not asking you to hide who you are, but Gary will go into conniptions if you start giving him a hand job under the table, Brian.”

Justin blushed. Brian looked smug, and seemed about to say something wonderfully inappropriate before Justin hustled him off to answer the door. Brian, deprived of his normal sarcastic one liner which he seemed ready to pull out on any occasion, settled for nibbling at Justin’s neck. Justin was so distracted that he forgot who he was opening the door to. The four faces who were confronted with the sight of a giggling Justin attached to Brian by his teeth all looked utterly scandalized.

Used to answering the door at the loft with Brian attached to him in all manner of places, with both of them in all stages of undress, it took Justin a few moments to realize exactly what was wrong. After he did, it still took some time to extricate himself from Brian’s grip. By the time Brian was prepared to relinquish him Justin’s face was bright red, the guests were completely white, and Brian looked even smugger than he had before.

“Um……” Justin tried to say, and then the manners instilled in him as a child kicked in. “Brian. This is my Aunt Helen, my Aunt Caroline and her husband Taylor, and my Uncle Gary.” Helen and Caroline looked significantly more relaxed when Brian smiled charmingly, ushered them inside, and offered them sweeping bows as he kissed their hands. Helen, who was the youngest and unmarried, blushed. Taylor seemed slightly discomfited when Brian did the same for him. Justin glared. Brian grinned.

When it came to Gary though, Brian did not seem to be able to treat the rather austere looking gentleman of 50 in the same way, choosing instead to shake his hand quickly and then back away. Gary nodded and said nothing. The two of them barely spoke to one another for the rest of the evening.

They all stood there somewhat awkwardly until Kathryn bore down on them and half invited, half shoved them into the dining room. Brian was honestly at a loss to explain how four such WASPish children came from this old woman; other than the flashes of spirit he often saw now in Jennifer. He was disappointed. He had hoped to take all credit for her new found immunity to his vulgarity. It seemed that he could no longer do so.

Dinner was a stilted affair. Brian had decided, fuck what Justin said he needed, he didn’t need the pair of them to be stared at like a couple of freaks in a circus. But the first time Brian opened his mouth Justin reached across and squeezed his balls. Hard. Not in that positive life affirming way. Brian looked injured. Justin glared. Brian made a comment about the beef. Jennifer smiled weakly.

Finally, Helen broke the silence. “So, how did you two meet?” she asked in a strained voice. It was unclear as to who she was addressing.

“Well, Justin began cautiously, not seeming to want the fragile peace that they had managed to create, “Brian-“

“Found him under a streetlamp,” Brian jumped in before Justin could stop him. “So irresponsible, parents these days. Losing their kids all willy-nilly. And they turn up in the oddest of places. Why, I was so shocked to find him there that it took me a whole night to figure out where to return him to. Craig didn’t seem too pleased to have him back though,” he added thoughtfully. “Pass the salt please.”

Gary passed him the salt without a word. Brian took it without thanking him. The rest of them stared.

“If, if you don’t mind my saying,” Caroline spoke up timidly, “that doesn’t exactly seem conducive to the beginning of a relationship.” Her left hand tightened on her husband’s arm as she spoke. Brian looked at the sight and snorted. Justin looked at Brian, obviously unsure as to how to deal with the situation.

For some reason Brian was angry. Justin was one of the strongest people he knew, the person who had refused to go back into the closet, had refused to leave him – in the long run, and yet he felt cowed by his family, unable to give them the truth.

“Oh, it wasn’t a relationship back then,” he said pleasantly. Rather than looking reassured Justin looked more scared than he had before. “I just took him home and fucked him.” Everyone but Jennifer and Kathryn flinched, Justin included.

“But the kid here, of course he was a kid back then, weren’t you, honey?” he said to Justin in a sickly sweet voice, putting his arm around him. Justin squirmed away. “He just couldn’t leave me alone,” Brian went on; as though he couldn’t tell that everyone looked extremely uncomfortable. “So he came back and back and back. And I hurt him over and over again. But somehow, he put up with me, and we’re still together. Is that everything you wanted to know?”

“Actually,” Kathryn’s voice rang out, “it’s not. I need to know, Brian. Are you safe with him? Do you protect him? Do you cheat on him, like Craig did to my Jennifer? I won’t allow you near him again if you’re anything like him.”

For a moment Brian flashed back to his fight with Justin, when he had told him how like his father he was. For a moment, he thought he could pull back, maybe save this train wreck that he’d singled handedly turned the evening into. Then he shook his head. It hadn’t just been him. It had been those women with their stupid insipid questions. It had been Taylor, and Gary, the typical straight men. And it had been Justin, so scared to be himself when that was all he had been telling, pushing, Brian to do for weeks.

He didn’t stop. “Well, it depends what you mean,” he said lazily, one eyebrow raised. “I keep him safe. We always use a condom. Of course, we fuck other men,” his eyes lingered on Taylor, then Gary, “But I make sure we both get tested every six months. And you needn’t worry about cheating,” he finished off. “Sunshine here’s the one for that, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Very carefully, very deliberately, Justin put down his knife and fork, picked up his napkin, wiped his mouth, then equally deliberately folded it, put it down by his plate, and got up. “Excuse me,” he said quite calmly, and then slowly moved to the door, where he paused. “Brian,” making several people jump as his voice broke the enforced silence that had covered the room. Looking not at all concerned he rose lazily from the table and followed Justin out of the door.

The blond waited until the conversation resumed in the other room, then grabbed Brian’s arm and dragged him along the hall to a small room. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he whispered furiously. “They’re my family, Brian. They’re not my friends, they’re not your friends or family; they’re mine. You said you’d let me have this, Brian, you promised.”

“And I would have let you have it, if you intended on doing anything,” Brian retorted. But all you seem to want is to keep quiet and hope we don’t shock them too much. That’s not the Justin Taylor I know. You remember that seventeen year old who told his father that he was never coming home? Where was he tonight?”

“We all have to grow up some time, Brian,” Justin ground out through gritted teeth. “Maybe you should try it.”

“Fuck.” Brian shook his head. “You sound just like Michael.” Justin looked slightly affronted, but said nothing, just looked at his feet. “C’mon, Sunshine, loosen up. Have some fun.”

Justin’s head shot up. “What, like you, you mean?” he demanded. “Jesus, Brian, you were flirting with my Uncle!”

Brian just laughed. “Uh oh, you’re memory’s failing,” he said in a teasing voice “Think, Justin, where have you seen the esteemed Taylor before?”

“Around, I guess.” Justin shrugged, puzzled. “I don’t go to much of the family stuff anymore, so……”

“It wasn’t at the latest family reunion,” Brian commented dryly. “Jesus, Justin. We fucked him. At the baths.”

Justin drew back horrified. “When,” he asked frantically. “Brian, they’ve only been married six months. Tell me I did not fuck him while they were together.”

Brian just laughed. “Don’t get your panties in a twist; it was over three years ago. Just before the fiddler fiasco. Now do you see the joke? It’s almost as good as old Reverend Tom.”

Justin looked at him coldly. “This is my family, Brian. I’m sure as hell not going to laugh at something that could tear them apart. If you are, I think you better go.”

Brian looked at him incredulously for a moment, then without another word turned and left. Justin stayed where he was for a few minutes, flinching when he heard the front door bang. Then he collected himself and returned to the dining room. For a moment it looked like someone might say something, but instead they all looked at each other rather helplessly, and stayed quiet. Justin thought he was safe.

“Justin.” Or maybe not. “What happened out there?” his mother asked.

“I asked Brian to leave,” Justin replied. “Pass the potatoes, please.”

“Leave!” Jennifer cried out. “Justin, I know he was going a little over the top, but……”

“Mom,” Justin half shouted. “He was going more than a little over the top. He was coming out with complete bullshit. He promised me tonight would be about me, and if he can’t keep his promises….”

“Well, it’s not as if you actually doing anything,” Jennifer pointed out. Justin and the rest of the table looked at her in astonishment. “Justin, over the last five years I have watched my baby boy turn into a beautiful young man who is proud of who he is, and makes no apologies for it. I haven’t seen him once tonight.” Tucker laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “I am proud of my relationship. I am quite certain that once they get around to it our beloved family will have as much to say about mine as they do about yours. But I’ll fight for mine, and I’ll be following your example in doing so. Don’t let me down, Justin.”

Justin looked around, helplessly. Then his eyes lit on Taylor. He’d always found his name slightly amusing, but it just then struck him that he’d fucked someone called Taylor. Someone called Taylor, who was married to his aunt. He began to laugh. “Hey, Taylor,” he asked as he chuckled. The man looked slightly surprised that Justin was even speaking to him. “How often do you take a bath?”

All the color seemed to drain from the man’s face, but Justin didn’t notice, just moved so that his view encompassed the entire table. “I feel that I must make an apology to you all tonight,” he began. “You all came to see your nephew, grandson, Justin Taylor, but you haven’t even met him yet. Well, here he is.” He gestured at his own body.

“I am Justin Taylor. I’m gay. I have a male lover twelve years older than me. Three years ago I cheated on him and it was the biggest mistake of my life. We both fuck other men; we both drink and smoke too much. But we do always use a condom. We always fight; getting Brian to say ‘I love you,’ was like pulling teeth, and we have what is probably the most fucked up relationship in the history of mankind. But we love each other.” Slowly, he looked closely into the faces of each person in the room, finishing with his mother, who smiled at him warmly.

“And if any of you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourselves.”

Without another word he turned and left.

He took a gamble that Brian would have gone back to the loft, and was relieved to find him there. For a moment he was unsure of what to do. He didn’t completely believe in Brian’s credo that apologies were bullshit, but he knew that saying sorry to him right now would be insulting. In the end he decided to go with how he felt.

Brian was standing by the window, smoking a cigarette, obviously ignoring Justin. Justin went over, took the cigarette out of his hands, and stubbed it out. Brian looked at him. Justin kissed him, roughly, passionately, and then let Brian control the kiss while he maneuvered them backwards until Brian hit the edge of the counter.

Then he pulled back and with a grin, dropped to his knees. He wasted no time in unzipping his pants, and freeing Brian’s cock, and within less than a minute had it most of the way down his throat. Brian’s gripped his hair hard and Justin let his lover take over, let his dick fuck Justin’s mouth. It was over within minutes and although Brian’s expression hadn’t changed when Justin pulled away he could feel the change in his body, the tension that he had been carrying around was gone.

“I’m an idiot,” Justin said in a rush. “I’m a stupid, insecure idiot.”

Brian laughed and kissed him, tasting himself on Justin’s tongue. “I knew that. I was glad for the excuse to get out. Not so good at playing happy families.”

“You’re not,” Justin agreed. “But still, you were a little….much tonight.” He hesitated for am oment, and then said quickly. “Brian, how do you know my uncle?”

Brian started, but quickly covered his reaction with a smirk. “Sunshine, if you’re unsure as to how the both of us know your Uncle Taylor, then I’ve been doing something very wrong.”

He smiled with his familiar tongue in cheek expression, but the serious look on Justin’s face didn’t change. “I meant my Uncle Gary. I know you, Brian, you were fine until you met him. Then suddenly you went all – you.” He shrugged helplessly. “You know what I’m mean.”

“You mean you think I have a problem with your uncle because I was acting like myself? I think you need to cut back on the weed, Sunshine.”

“Brian.” Justin didn’t say anything else, just looked at Brian, who found himself trapped in the crystal blue gaze, unable to look away.

Finally he gave a sigh and walked over to the bed. “Do you know what your Uncle does, Justin.”

Justin shrugged. “Sure. He’s into stocks and shares or some shit now, but when he was younger he used to coach a pretty good soccer team. Made quite a bit of money from it. But he started out as a school coach I think. Some rebellion, he didn’t want to live off of my grandfather’s mon….” His voice trailed off. “Brian? Brian, he wasn’t…….was he?”

Slowly, Brian nodded. In a flash Justin was by his side, wrapping himself around him in an attempt to block out the rest of the world, to keep out the reality that kept hurting the man he loved. Brian stiffened, and for a moment it seemed as if he would pull away, but then he turned and relaxed into Justin’s embrace.

“It was a long time ago,” he murmured into Justin’s hair. “It shouldn’t matter. We didn’t even fuck.”

“But it does matter,” Justin insisted, pushing himself up on one elbow, and looking down into Brian’s eyes. “It does matter, Brian.” He took something from you, something that he didn’t have any right to take.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “He hardly seduced me, Sunshine,” he said bitterly. “That one was all on me.”

“But you said it yourself,” Justin protested, "he was probably as old then as you are now. Are you really telling me that if a fourteen year old tried to suck you off, you wouldn’t stop him?”

“I guess Gary was a bit more hard up for it then I am now,” Brian joked, trying to make light of it, but the voice came out weak and fragile. Justin didn’t laugh.

“Maybe he didn’t take anything from you exactly,” he continued as if Brian hadn’t said anything at all, “but it was wrong. And with everything you’ve found out about your, Dad – Brian, it’s ok not to be ok you know.”

Brian said nothing but nodded, and then buried his face in Justin’s shoulder, breathing him in.

“So,” Justin went on in a more normal voice, “we really fucked my uncle?”

“That we did, Sunshine,” Brian said in a voice full of laughter. “He wasn’t bad either. Think we should tell your Aunt?”

“No,” Justin said. “I think he really cares for her. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

Brian snorted. “Less than three years ago, about what, eighteen months before they met he was in the baths taking it up the ass and sucking cock like a pro. You really think he’s not having some fun on the side?”

Justin swatted at his stomach. “Some people have self control, you know,” he said indignantly. “Just because you don’t – and just because he likes guys doesn’t mean that he can’t like girls too,” he added hastily when Brian looked about to protest. “Bisexuality does exist, you know.”

“I know,” Brian said, and his voice had lowered to a seductive purr. “But personally I’m only interested in guys. Right now, in one guy in particular.” His hand trailed over Justin’s chest, stopping to tweak his pierced nipple, then continued its path down to his thigh, and then his semi erect dick. “You up for it,” Brian whispered in his ear. Justin shivered.

“Always,” he whispered back.

Carefully, almost reverently, with none of the urgency the two of them had displayed not ten minutes before, Brian stripped Justin of his clothes, kissing each piece of skin as it was uncovered. Justin tried to move, wanted to do the same to Brian, but the older man pressed him gently back into the mattress.

“Just – let me,” he said quietly, and Justin, mesmerized by the look in his hazel eyes, nodded his assent. Brian took his time, not leaving any part of Justin’s body untouched. Justin became utterly pliant in his hands, turning with every touch the man bestowed on him, keening every time Brian’s hands or lips were removed from his body, and then mewling when they were replaced to pleasure yet anther part of him.

Brian just wanted to make Justin feel wanted, the way he hadn’t felt wanted so many times, by his father, by his coach, by numerous tricks. He didn’t, for once, want Justin begging, and his own cock was by this time rock hard, so at Justin’s first whispered ‘please,’ he drew back, eliciting a moan from Justin, and divesting himself quickly of his clothes.

Within seconds his latex covered cock was inching its way slowly into Justin. Justin wanted to ask for faster, more, now, but somehow the moment captured him and held him silent, so that he only breathed out the groans which emanated from his lips as Brian carefully, gently filled him up. The older man pause just for a second when he was all the way inside, and looked down into Justin eyes.

The blond was reminded of all those times, before Brian could say, ‘I love you,’ and he would hold on to moments like this with all his might, believing that this was Brian’s way of telling him what he couldn’t say. Looking into his lover’s hazel eyes he knew he had been right. Brian was telling him that he loved him as surely now as every time he said it out loud. Suddenly, now that he had them, Justin began to understand how unnecessary the words had been.

“Jus,” Brian breathed out, reverently, and Justin raised a pale hand to cup Brian’s cheek. And then Brian began to thrust, hard and deep, and Justin was gripping the sheets below him, his muscles tense in anticipation, all of him waiting, just waiting for that explosion, which Brian seemed to be able to hold off indefinitely. But looking down at the sight of his beautiful lover spread out beneath him Brian lost his legendary control, as he only ever did with Justin. His thrusts became shorter and erratic; his hips pumped, and suddenly they were both born away on a tide of sensation, clinging to each other as the only other real thing in their world.

Finally Brian slumped down on top of Justin, completely spent. After a few moments he began to nuzzle slightly at Justin’s skin, kissing and licking the sweaty flesh, as if though even with the need to come gone, he could not bear to not touch Justin. When he finally felt as if he could move again he pulled carefully out of the younger man and removing the condom, tossed it into the bin he kept beside the bed for just such a purpose.

Then he returned to the bed and wrapped himself around Justin, clinging as though he never wanted to let go. Justin held onto him just as tightly, and they fell asleep that way, sweaty and cum soaked, with Brian’s face nestled into the crook of Justin’s neck, and there arms and legs so entangled it was impossible, in the dim light, to see which limb belonged to who.

>>>  
Jennifer had been horrified to learn of her older brother’s part in Brian’s loss of childhood. “He always seemed to hate that sort of thing,” she had wailed.

Brian had laughed it off. “Lesson number one,” he said in a lecturing tone. “The biggest homophobes are almost always closet cases. Although you really should have learned that from Hobbs,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Jennifer had flinched slightly at the name but mostly just looked puzzled. “Chris…Chris Hobbs was gay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Justin pissed him off when he gave him a hand job and then outed him in front of his friends on Liberty Avenue,” Brian had said without thinking. Justin had insisted that he talk to Jennifer and threatened to stage one of his well meant interventions if Brian didn’t go. So Brian had gone and told Jennifer what happened. But he had been reluctant enough to grab on to any change of subject, even a painful one.

He didn’t even think of the impact of his words until he had looked up to see Jennifer staring at him with wide eyes, hands covering her mouth.

“Oh,” she had said, the sound slightly muffled by her fingers. And then, “oh, that stupid boy.” Her hands had slowly lowered, folding in her lap. “If only he hadn’t been so reckless,” she had gone on, sounding almost angry with him. “But then I suppose,” a wistful smile, “if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t be our Justin.”

Brian had pushed away the warm feeling he felt at her saying ‘our Justin,’ and smirked. “If he hadn’t jerked the boy off?” Jennifer had blushed and shot him a look as if to say, ‘you should be ashamed of yourself.’ But her eyes had sparkled with mischief. Brian just pushed his tongue into his cheek and stared right back, but inside of him something had cheered, ‘score one for the fags. They’ve corrupted another good, decent citizen.’

And now he was at home, telling Justin about the whole encounter and Justin was blushing and slapping lightly at his arm but giggling the whole fucking time, and the sound was going straight to Brian’s dick, making him hard as iron when the idea of any trick giggling was enough to make him wilt in seconds. His eyes darkened with lust, and Justin caught the look and the giggling abruptly stopped. His breath started to come in short heavy pants, and his eyes changed from blue to almost black. Brian had done nothing but look at him and the younger man was hard as steel, and leaking through the soft cotton of his underwear.

Leaning forward Brian moved so that his lips were just inches away from Justin’s mouth. Slowly, slowly he leaned closer until he could just feel the delicate brush of Justin’s lip on his own, and the two of them were sharing the same air. “Love you,” he whispered, and Justin let out a groan, his white teeth nipping at his full bottom lip in an attempt to keep the noise in.

“Uh uh,” Brian breathed out, wanting Justin moaning, wanting him completely out of control, and then he closed that last tiny gap between them, biting at Justin’s lip himself, almost hard enough to break the skin. But Justin was just as desperate by this point as he was and he slammed their mouths together, a kiss that consisted of bruising force, rather than any real tenderness. Brian kissed back just as hard, forgetting everything but Justin, forgetting to breathe until he finally had to pull away, panting heavily.

A whine came from Justin’s throat, an involuntary sound that sent a pulse right through Brian’s dick. The boy hadn’t been ready to let go yet. Brian looked at him, blond hair mussed and flying every which way, skin flushed and eyes dark, his lips almost bright red from the force of their kissing. Suddenly his entire world, everything that mattered centered on the person in front of him, on possessing him and making him his.

He hadn’t counted on Justin feeling the same way. Without any warning at all the smaller body almost leapt forward and Brian crashed backwards on the sofa covered by Justin’s body. The blonde’s mouth was at his neck, nipping, licking and sucking at whatever he could reach, while his hands burrowed under Brian’s T-shirt, the nails scratching a little at his ribs. Brian made a half hearted attempt to dislodge him, bucking up underneath him, but Justin pulled back a little and grunted out, “Just – let me,” and Brian did.

Justin rolled his hips down into Brian’s and the older man bucked up for another reason entirely. Desperate to feel Brian’s skin against his own Justin released him long enough to pull Brian’s shirt over his head, but then he was back on him; hands, mouth, tongue touching everywhere they could. Brian could feel the pleasure building in his dick, radiating outwards through the rest of his body, and all too soon he was perilously close to coming.

“No…” he groaned out, but Justin covered his mouth with his own, swallowing his cries, and then covered Brian’s denim clad cock with his hand, grinding the heel down onto the swollen organ. Brian’s cries could be heard even through their kisses, and Justin abandoned his mouth, kissing his neck, biting at his nipples, wanting to hear Brian, wanting him to come the way he had made Justin so many times, just a horny teenager coming in his pants.

Brian’s body was thrashing from side to side, his head shaking in denial, the rational part of him not wanting to come like this. But his groin was thrusting up into Justin’s hand, and Justin's mouth was on his neck, and his other hand was on his nipple, and oh god, how did rubbing up against this boy feel so much better than any fuck he’d ever had with anyone else? “No, no, no,” he tried to say again, but then, “no, yes, as Justin ground down even harder on his hard on. Then he gave up all attempts at coherency and gave himself over to the sounds he would normally hold back, the sounds he normally only made when he let Justin fuck him.

He took one more moment to look down at the kid on top of him, down at the blond head currently moving rapidly at his chest, before Justin quickly unzipped his jeans, slipped his hand inside and gave Brian’s naked cock one, two, three strokes, and Brian came, inside his jeans, all over Justin’s hands, just like a horny teenager.

For maybe a minute he just lay there, trying to regain control of his breathing, of his body, his eyelashes fluttering in an unconscious flirtation over his hazel eyes. And then he opened them and there was Justin, grinning at him like the cat that got the cream. Then the boy very slowly, very deliberately, lifted his hand to his mouth and carefully inserted one cum covered finger. Brian watched him lustfully, cock already swelling again inside his jeans. He tried to move but Justin held him down, looking him straight in the eye as he took each finger into his mouth and cleaned it off.

Just when Brian though he couldn’t bear it anymore Justin peeled down Brian’s jeans and proceeded to clean him up as thoroughly as he had done his own hand, licking everywhere but Brian’s cock in an attempt to clean him of all traces of cum. By the time he was done Brian was hard and leaking again, and straining against the two hands which were carefully but strongly holding down his hips.

Justin glanced up again, blue eyes meeting brown, before finally, finally, touching just the very tip of his tongue to the very tip of Brian’s dick, lapping up the pre-cum which had pooled there.

It was all the Brian could stand. With a roar he pushed up, away from Justin’s restraining hands, and then grabbed the small blond boy. Within seconds Justin was naked, Brian’s jeans were gone from around his feet and three of Brian’s well lubed fingers were inside his ass, opening him.

“Ready?” Brian asked through gritted teeth. Justin couldn’t do anything but nod. Brian ripped open a condom, rolled it onto his dick, and then knelt back on the sofa pulling Justin on top of him. Then he positioned his lover and with one firm thrust, he was inside him. He didn’t wait, didn’t want to wait, and knew Justin didn’t either, for the other man to adjust, just thrust up over and over, one hand encircling Justin’s waist to keep him in position, the other roughly jerking at his dick.

Justin had been ready to cum just from giving Brian a hand job, just from tasting his cum, and now with Brian stroking so deeply inside him, hitting his prostate with almost every thrust it took almost no time at all for him to shoot, ropes of cum flying out to land on the shag pile carpet three feet in front of them. Brian rode him through the aftershocks, and came for the second time deep inside him.

After a slower but equally satisfying round in the shower the two of them stumbled into bed, and Brian slept without nightmares, wrapped around his lover.

>>>

It took a little time, two or three days, for the nightmares to come back, but come back they did and with a vengeance. There didn’t seem to be any established pattern or trigger that set them off, they came and went as they pleased. Brian could go two weeks with perhaps only one dream, then have to suffer through five nights of non-stop terror.

It left Brian feeling guilty for waking Justin and leaning on him, and guilty for leaning on Jennifer. It left him angry, and feeling weak and worthless. He and Justin spent hours of counter productive talk, trying to figure out what was triggering them, to no avail. Jennifer poked and prodded Brian into talking about the nightmares, which might have helped him in the long run but which was definitely fucking up his life short term. It seemed to get harder every time he talked about them, not easier.

Justin was left feeling guilty for not being able to help Brian, and guilty for the headaches and arguments their talks about the issue produced. It left him spending hours talking with Ben and feeling guilty about, and feeling resentful towards Brian for taking over his life. Then he felt guilty for feeling that way at all.

Finally Ben came up with an idea. Brian, having had days without a nightmare, said no. Two weeks later, he was back.


	8. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end. It's only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: this chapter has references to sexual abuse of a child by their parent, and describes attempted rape of a teenager by their parent. 
> 
> Some of Brian and Justin's dialogue during the art show and in the final scenes is taken directly from the show, episodes 509 and 511. Notes at the end comment on the psychology dealt with in the story.

With everything that had happened, the Emerging Artist’s show at Lindsay’s gallery had crept up on Justin with almost no warning. The pieces had been stored at the gallery for the past few months and Justin had honestly forgotten all about them until Lindsay had called to ask him to supervise the hanging of his artwork.

 

This had coincided with one of Brian’s nightmare free phases. In celebration of his achievement Brian had insisted on taking him out and buying him the softest most expensive turtleneck he could find, in a bright red that slightly reconciled Justin to it. He then took Justin home and covered his neck in hickeys.

 

Since he always wore turtlenecks at ‘boring pretentious events,’ anyway, Brian argued, no one would know why he was wearing it. Justin pointed out that the opening wasn’t for another three days, but that didn’t stop Brian either.

 

Instead he told Justin that ‘for the good of his fashion sense,’ Justin would simply have to put up with Brian attacking his neck for the next three days. Anything to get him into that jumper.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin was standing in front of one of his pieces, quietly trying to ignore Tucker’s presence, when an arm looped around his waist and pulled him back against a hard, lean body. Another arm wrapped itself around his shoulders.

 

“Mmm,” Brian mumbled, pulling at the neck of Justin’s top with his left hand and kissing at the newly exposed skin.

 

“Brian,” Justin admonished him sternly, but wriggled back against him, unable to keep the grin from his face. Brian kept his arms around him but stopped trying to maul his throat. Although Justin had wanted him to stop he couldn’t suppress a sigh of disappointment when Brian did.

 

“So this is it?” Brian asked, finally turning his attention to the artwork in front of him.

 

“Do you like it?” Justin replied somewhat breathlessly as Brian’s hand started to stroke the skin just under the hem of his jumper.

 

“Would that make it good?” Brian breathed in Justin’s ear. Justin shivered.

 

“No,” he managed to get out.

 

“Would it make you rich?” Brian asked before once again lowering his mouth to Justin’s neck.

 

“No,” he replied in a strained voice, struggling slightly to get away.

 

“Would it make you like it?” Brian breathed against his skin, just loud enough for Justin to hear.

 

“No,” Justin sighed, relaxing his body, and giving in to what Brian wanted to do to him.

 

“I think it’s exquisite,” Brian told him. Justin turned in his arms.

 

“Have you talked to Ben yet?” he asked, winding his arms around the taller man’s neck. Brian stiffened, his relaxed posture suddenly gone hard and tense, his face closed off.

 

“No,” he said shortly, and tried to disentangle himself from Justin. The blond sighed.

 

“I know you don’t want to think about it,” he told Brian, and he reached up to kiss him, but Brian turned his head. “You didn’t like it – hell, I didn’t like it – when he first mentioned it, but only a few nights later you were all for calling him up at three in the morning. And you know you’ll have changed your mind as soon as you wake up in the middle of the night again.”

 

Brian snorted, gripped Justin’s arms and forcibly removed them from around his neck. He turned on his heel and walked away without another word. Justin watched him go anxiously, but didn’t try to follow him. Brian would work this out eventually. He had to.

 

Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Brian sidle over to Ben. When he saw the two of them engage in conversation he finally gave off watching Brian out of the corner of his eye, and gave all his attention to the art critic who was commenting on his work.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

“Professor,” Brian casually greeted Ben.

 

“Brian,” Ben returned warmly, “how are you? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

 

“Well, you can thank your lesser half for that,” Brian said with a bitter smile.

 

Ben frowned. “Look, I know Michael did some things that were out of line, but –“

 

“But he’s still your ever beloved husband, and we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Brian cut in smoothly, his voice still sarcastic, but all sign of hurt wiped carefully away. The frown didn’t leave Ben’s face, but he said nothing. The silence stretched between them

 

“Justin said you could help me,” Brian blurted out. The frown on Ben’s face smoothed into a carefully blank mask, but when he looked at the other man his eyes were filled with pity. Brian looked away.

 

“Well,” he demanded harshly, “can you?”

 

Ben hesitated for a moment before speaking. He knew what it must have cost Brian to ask for help. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I want to. Brian-” he laid his hand on the brunette’s shoulder as the other man started to turn away. “You’re having nightmares because you’re still scared of him. You need to confront your fear if you ever want to let go of it.”

 

“And just how do you propose I do that, Professor?” Brian sneered, his eyes darting from side to side as if looking for a way to escape. Every instinct in him was screaming at him to run, but he stood his ground, needing to hear what Ben had to say.

 

“Hypnotism,” Ben said simply. Brian snorted. “I know it sounds hokey, Brian, but it can really work-”

 

“No.” Brian said firmly. “You think you can fix me, Professor? With a magic fucking watch and chain? Forget it.” He turned and strode away.

 

“Brian!” Ben called after him, but he was already swallowed up inside the crowd.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

“So what do you think?” Justin asked as soon as they were through the door.

 

“I thought the event was fucking boring; your work was fucking amazing, and _you_ were fucking hot,” Brian replied, reaching out to pull the blond towards him.

 

“Not about that,” Justin murmured as Brian’s hand slid under his top to play with his nipple, “about Ben’s idea.”

 

Suddenly Brian’s fingers pinched down so harshly that Justin let out a pained gasp and pulled away.

 

“It sucks,” Brian said flatly. “It’s some ridiculous, new age bullshit that doesn’t do a Goddamn, mother-fucking thing.” He reached for Justin again but the blond resisted.

 

“Do you have any better ideas?” he asked. “Brian, this stuff can really work. It digs deep into places you don’t want to look and drags them up so that you can confront them.

 

“It’s some stupid Freudian shit that went out along with corsets and top hats,” Brian yelled back. “I won’t do it,” he said more quietly, and turned away. Justin reached out to touch him, but Brian jerked away. The blond had felt him though, just for a moment, trembling beneath his fingers. His face softened and he stepped forward, plastering himself to Brian’s back, holding on even when the older man tried to shrug him off.

 

“Do it for me,” he whispered in his ear.

 

“Never do anything for anyone but yourself, Sunshine,” Brian replied. “I taught you that, remember?” Justin winced. Brian was right; he could not manipulate the older man into doing this, no matter how much he thought he needed it.

 

“So do it for you,” he said in a stronger voice. “You need this, Brian. You need to confront him, get him out of your system before he destroys you for good. And I will not let him do that to you.”

 

Brian let out a small, sharp, gasp, barely audible, but Justin could feel the gulp of air in the stomach muscles beneath his fingers, could feel the vibrations of the breath in his own chest where it pressed against Brian’s back.

 

“I don’t – I can’t-” Brian got out, and then snapped his mouth shut, as if afraid to say more.

 

“You can,” Justin told him. “You can do anything; you’re strong, Brian, stronger than I am.” Brian snorted, but Justin ignored him. “You were strong enough to tell me that you loved me.”

 

For a moment there was silence in the loft, and Justin held his breath, half scared of what Brian would do next.

 

Then Brian turned, and gripped Justin’s shoulder in a bruising hold. Justin didn’t struggle, but looked up into Brian’s face, trying to read the emotion which was raging within his hazel eyes. He was no closer to figuring out what it was when Brian moved again. He pulled himself closer to Justin and captured his lips in a punishing kiss. A part of Justin wanted to hold back, wanted to make Brian tell him what was going one, but then Brian’s tongue brushed against his lips and he was lost.

 

He kissed Brian back, and it felt so good, that heady clash of lips and tongue, Brian’s teeth nipping at his mouth, Brian’s hands coming up to cradle his head. Brian.

 

Then the hands began to roam, sliding under his jumper and forcing their lips to part as they pulled it over the blond head, unzipping his pants and slipping inside to leave an all too brief across in his semi-erect cock, hardening it and then leaving him begging for more. Instead the strong fingers gripped the top of his pants to pull them down, the hot mouth following in their wake down his chest. At one point Justin had attempted to reciprocate, but Brian had batted his hands away and Justin had let him, content to lose himself in the haze of sensuality that Brian was creating.

 

Now though, Brian grabbed him again, and half pushed him over, lowering him none too gently to the floor and landing on top of him. Justin expected him to continue, but instead Brian gripped his two slender wrists in one strong hand, pinned them to the floor above his head, and then stopped, looking down at Justin.

 

For a moment Justin just lay there, but as his need for Brian began to wear off a little he was reminded uncomfortably of one of his lasts nights with Brian before Ethan, when Brian had taken him to the floor and then just left him there, hard, aching, and hating himself and Brian. But Brian didn’t leave, just stared at him, until Justin began to squirm under his scrutiny.

 

Finally he spoke. “I’m not stronger than you.” Justin tried to protest, but Brian stopped him, brushing his free hand over his lips. “I’m strong enough to pin you down, to hold you here and never let you go, but you’re strong enough to let me. To open yourself up to me. I couldn’t do that.”

 

“Let me go,” Justin said clearly, and Brian released him immediately. Justin stood up. He reached a hand down to Brian and drew him to his feet.

 

“You’re stronger than me,” Justin told him, and he reached forward and began to unbutton Brian’s shirt as he spoke. “I can let you fuck me, and I can let you pin me down, but only because you’re strong enough to let me go. When you think it’s what’s best for me, Brian, you can let me go. I could never do the same for you.”

 

He finished undressing Brian, gently brushing the newly revealed skin with his hands as he went, but not doing anything further. When his lover was finally naked he eased Brian down onto the floor. Then, very deliberately he took hold of Brian’s wrists, and pinned them above his head. Brian didn’t try to get away, but every muscle in his body tensed.

 

“I’ll never be able to let you go, Brian,” Justin said, “but you’re lying here beneath me, pinned down. You’re stronger than I am.” Then he released him. “”I can’t let you go, Brian, but I’ll never pin you down here, when you don’t want to be held.”

 

Brian reached up a hand and drew Justin down into a kiss, a harsh kiss like the kisses he had given him earlier. Then he jerked his lover’s head to the side. “I won’t let you fuck me,” he growled, “but I want you to hold me down.”

 

At Brian’s words Justin felt his body respond, his heartbeat increase, his cock swell, his skin prickle. Still he had to ask, “Are you sure?” Brian nodded and kissed him again. Justin rose to his feet and, half dragging Brian behind him, made his way to the bed.

 

He quickly dug something out of the toy box and then, turning back to Brian, pushed him down onto the mattress. Brian stared up at him, slight bemused by his lover’s forcefulness. Justin grinned at him, then, getting onto the bed himself, scrambled towards him. He snapped one handcuff onto Brian’s left wrist, and then the right, and finally attached the chain connecting them to the hook driven into the wall for just such a purpose.

 

Despite the consent he had given Brian looked utterly shocked. “Don’t worry,” Justin told him smiling. “I won’t be gentle. Promise.”

 

He proceeded to turn everything Brian had ever taught him in the four years they had been together back onto his older lover. By the time he finally sank down on Brian’s cock the brunette was shaking with need, his body unaware of anything but the touch, the feel of Justin’s body. It took only minutes for both of them to come, the spasm of Brian’s body beneath his bringing Justin to a shuddering climax.

 

Justin collapsed on top of Brian, his breath coming in short pants as he tried to regain the will to move. Finally he heaved himself up and, with a short groan, pulled himself off of Brian. Then he quickly disposed of the condom and let Brian out of his restraints.

 

Throughout all of this Brian hadn’t said a word, hadn’t moved beyond pulling his arms back to his body when they were released, but when Justin curled up against him he drew the younger man closer into his arms. The blond looked up at him, a question in his eyes, Brian nodded in return.

 

Justin sighed and his whole body relaxed, molding itself to Brian as though the two of them had been made to fit together. They dozed for a while, and then just as Brian was drifting off to sleep he heard Justin say something.

 

“Hmm?” he murmured, only half awake.

               

“Why did we never do this before?” Justin repeated. “Our bodies speak so much better than we do.”

 

“We did, Sunshine,” Brian said quietly. “You just weren’t listening.”

 

For a moment Justin looked afraid, unsure of what to do, but then Brian kissed him. It was a soft kiss, full of love and forgiveness. Justin sighed again and the two of them fell asleep side by side.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

“This isn’t going to work,” Brian said stubbornly as Justin maneuvered him into the huge armchair in the middle of the room. “It’s all-“

 

“Bullshit,” Justin finished for him. “Utter bullshit which isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference and is a waste of your oh, so precious time.” Brian said nothing, but glared at him. He opened his mouth as though trying to come up with an argument, but all that came out was: “I hate it when people finish my sentences.”

 

Justin grinned down at him. The chair Brian was sitting in was so big and soft that even Brian was forced to sink into it, or perch on the edge. Since he felt marginally more stupid perching he had chosen to sink in, with his ass in the middle lower than his knees on the edge, and his arms helping to hold him up. He glared up at Justin helplessly. In that position even the Kinney glare seemed funny and Justin had to stifle a laugh.

 

“Just sit there, and don’t worry,” he told Brian, feeling oddly like his mother, “the doctor will be in a minute.” 

 

He was about to turn away when he caught a glimpse of insecurity in Brian’s eyes. He bent down to give him a reassuring kiss, but Brian grabbed him and pulled him down into his lap, eliciting a squeak from Justin, who struggled half heartedly to get away. When Brian finally did release him he didn’t want to leave at all. Giving himself a moment to calm the raging erection which had appeared in his pants he leaned his forehead against Brian’s and whispered, “You can do this.”

 

He gave him another quick kiss, and then pulled away, and walked out of the room, still suppressing a grin at the odd sight Brian made sunk into the armchair. He could feel Brian’s glare on his back as he left. As he exited the room, however, the smile left his face. He didn’t know what he was going to do if this didn’t work. He was out of ideas. And what would he do if it did? Would Brian really be able to cope with confronting his father?

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian waited nervously in the room. A large part of him had desperately wanted to ask Justin to stay, watching him longingly as he disappeared from the room, but he had resisted and held back, glad that Justin hadn’t turned around to see the look on his face.

 

An even larger part of him wanted to simply get up and leave, and it was this impulse that he was fighting now, his fingers sinking so deep into the arms of the soft chair that they had all but disappeared below the cloth.

 

The door opened and the doctor walked in. She was nothing like what he had expected. He had envisaged a man in a top hat and long black cloak, like a magician who practiced hypnosis in a circus. Instead he was faced with a short, dumpy, middle aged woman dressed in large drab clothes. She smiled at him, a sweet, pitying smile that Brian immediately resented.

 

“I’m Dr Skinner,” she introduced herself in a too high voice. “I understand that you’re here to-“

 

“If you already know what I’m here for then you don’t need to go over it,” Brian snapped. His nerves were already stretched to breaking point, and hearing once again why he was there would have him bolting for the door. He reached to rub the bridge of his nose, but then felt himself sink further into the chair. He grabbed wildly for the arm.

 

“Alright then,” the doctor continued, sounding slightly flustered. “Now, before we begin, you need to choose a safe word.” Brian lifted an eyebrow. A safe word? Well, he had one all prepared. ‘Melanie.’ One word he could garuantee he would never call out during sex. But why did he need one here? The good doctor didn’t exactly seem the kinky type.

 

“You need something – a memory, an object or a person that represents safety to you. You need to be able to concentrate on it, to use it bring you out of the trance when it gets to be too much.”

 

The moment she had said the word safety a picture of Justin had floated into Brian’s mind. He remembered the day of his eighteenth birthday. Knowing somehow that he had got rid of Kip, although not knowing how. And he had let him inside. Justin had been so careful, even when Brian had told him to get on with it he had been determined to ensure that Brian was alright. He remembered how he had looked afterwards: his hair slicked back with sweat; his blue eyes burning bright.

 

“Now, fix that image in your mind,” Dr Skinner said, bringing him back to the present. “Do you need a few minutes to think of something?” Brian shook his head. The image was etched permanently onto his memory, and to him it meant safety. He had known that he would be safe with Justin. He never wanted to forget it again.

 

“Let’s begin then,” the doctor announced, and she pulled a long thin chain out of her pocket, attached at one end to a small black ball. “Now,” she said,” “I want you to follow the ball, but just with your eyes. Concentrate on the ball and my voice.”

 

She began to swing the ball from side to side. Brian forced his eyes to follow the ball, and found a strange sense of peace as he watched. When he was concentrating on the ball his mind could think of nothing else. Then a voice spoke, and somehow it had lost the whiny edge that had so annoyed Brian before.

 

“Think of it,” the voice told him. "First think of safety, of what safety means to you." The picture of Justin flashed in front of his eyes again, but he continued to concentrate on the ball. “Now think of when you weren’t safe,” the voice continued. “Think of the worst thing that ever happened to you. Remember the feelings that made you so afraid. I’m going to count backwards from ten,” the voice told him,” and when I get to the end you’re going to be back there. You’re going to confront the thing that scares you.”

 

Brian could hear the voice counting backwards, and he could see the ball swinging in front of his eyes, but now it was as if they no longer really existed. Flashes of memory flipped through his mind. His father holding Gus. Justin hiding from him and then looking at him with eyes wide with disbelief. The bowling ball disappearing into the smoke, climbing though Mikey’s window when it got so bad he couldn’t stand it anymore. Justin, above him, in him, pain combined with pleasure and he couldn’t understand why he had never done this before. Jack pulling him from the pretty flowers that he played with, Justin holding him afterwards, holding him after a nightmare, after sex, His father, holding him, the words ‘I love you,’ from different voices swirling around his head. Then a loud shrill voice cut through all the others.

 

“ONE!” it proclaimed imperiously. Brian’s body buckled underneath him and he sank into the soft depths of the chair, the soft depths of unconsciousness.

 

Seventeen. He is seventeen and his father still punishes him, still beats him. Still abuses him. He never tells anyone about the last part. Wants to tell Mikey but he can’t. He’s too scared of the look that will appear on Mikey’s face, the same look of horror and pity he had seen the first time he had crawled through Mickey’s window at 3 in the morning. He cannot face that again.

 

He’s in his room and Jack is downstairs watching the game, drinking. Brian prays that Jack is in a good mood, that his team wins, that he won’t come upstairs and into Brian’s room. The TV shuts off; the lights in the hall go on. He can hear the heavy tread of his father’s footsteps on the stairs.

 

He freezes, waits as the footsteps come nearer. They pass his room and he breathes a sigh of relief. Then they pause. His breath catches in his throat. Softly, so that Brian has to strain to hear, the footsteps start again. And they are coming towards him. The door wings open and his father is standing in the doorway.

 

He moves towards Brian, the alcohol so strong on his breath that Brian can smell it from a foot away. Jack doesn’t say a word, just reaches for Brian, and Brian just lets him. He wants to resist, but his body doesn’t respond to his mind’s commands. As Jack flings him back on the bed he knows there is something that can help him, but he can’t remember what.

 

Jack is on him now, pawing at him, his breath hot and disgusting on Brian’s skin. Brian desperately wants to push him away, fight him off, but his arms refuse to move. So instead he lies there and tries desperately to remember what can help him here. It’s summer, and the air is warm, so the window above his head is open to let the breeze in. As he glances up he catches the last glimpse of a blue sky, of a setting sun.

 

Fierce blue eyes bore into his. Brian blinks. It isn’t Jack, whose eyes are brown, and who by now is concentrating on taking off Brian’s jeans. Brian’s unusual lack of movement actually makes it harder for him than when Brian fights back and Jack is struggling. Brian glances up at the sun again.

 

Sweaty blond hair shines in the light from above his bed. The light that isn’t there. Brian concentrates on the image but Jack awkwardly flips him over and the sight fades. He cricks his head up from the bed at an awkward angle and looks desperately for the last fading remnants of the sun.

 

A sunshine smile, wide across a perfect face. **Justin**. Power, energy, surges back into Brian’s limbs, and with a roar he pushes back off the bed, knocking Jack off of him.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin waited nervously outside the doctor’s room. He had seen the woman go in, but hadn’t spoken to her. He thought that if he spoke he might be sick with worry for Brian. He had worried at first that Brian would come storming out. Justin could hardly believe that Brian had agreed to do this in the first place, and the plump woman who had entered the room seemed unlikely to persuade him that hypnosis was anything other than a bunch of crap.

 

So Justin sat and waited. And worried about what Brian would be going through now. Then he heard a roar coming from Brian’s room. Without thinking Justin jumped up and hurtled through the door. Brian was up and out of the ridiculous chair in the middle of the floor, walking slowly away from the centre of the room.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian pushes Jack off of him and turns to face him, yanking his jeans back up around his waist. Jack looks surprised for a moment but then a sneer settles over his face.

 

“Think you’re better than me, do, Sonny Boy? Think you don’t deserve to be punished?” Punished. Brian has done wrong. His father has to punish him.

 

The light from the setting sun reflects in the mirror. Justin. He doesn’t deserve to be punished. He’s done nothing wrong.

 

“I am better than you,” he tells Jack. Jack takes a swing at him and catches the side of his face. Brian looks up at his father, his blood dripping sluggishly from the corner of his mouth. His father suddenly looks old and frail, like the man Brian will know years from now.

 

Brian advances on him, yelling, all the pain bottled up, forgotten for years, being taken out on his father. The image of Justin in his mind supports him. Justin holding him, caring for him – Justin turning away from him. His mind betrays him. The feeling of strength falls away from him.

 

His father is young and strong again, and Brian is just a little child. He can’t stop him. He can’t.....

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Justin watched as Brian advanced, heard the accusing shouts and felt all the anger towards Jack that he ever had. But inwardly he was also cheering. Brian was finally facing his father. But then the scene changed. Brian halted and then slowly began to back up.

 

As Justin watched Brian he seemed to visibly shrink, and by the time Brian was back at the chair he had risen from he was half crouching down with his hands raised above his head. Justin looked helplessly over at the doctor, but she seemed just as lost as he was. Striding over to her he grabbed her by the shoulders.

 

“How do I get him out of this?” he demanded.

 

“Y-you can’t,” she spluttered. “He has to do it for himself. He needs the safe word.”

 

Justin didn’t understand what she meant and he didn’t care. He had to help Brian. Slowly he walked towards the cowering form, watching him warily in case he scared him. He didn’t think he needed to worry though. It didn’t seem as though Brian could even see him.

 

“Brian,” he said softly.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

“Brian,” he hears someone say, and suddenly, standing behind his father is the most beautiful man he has ever seen, with gold blonde hair and shockingly blue eyes. Brian doesn’t know who he is, but he never wants him to leave.

 

“Brian,” the man says again, “Brian, it’s alright, I’m here. Just come back to me.” Brian wants to go to the beautiful man, but his father is standing between them. He knows that he’ll be safe if he can just get past him, but he’s almost paralyzed with fear.

 

His father moves towards him as though he was walking though syrup, so slowly that Brian should easily be able to evade him, but his mind is working at the same speed, and he somehow is sure that if he tries to get to the man his father will catch him and drag him down.

 

“Come on, Brian!” the man shouts, and without even thinking about it Brian jerks forward. Time speeds up again and his father’s arm comes towards him, trying to grab him, but Brian ducks neatly underneath and runs, barreling into the man standing behind him.

 

Justin grabs and holds him, squeezing him until he can barely breathe. He doesn’t protest, but holds just as tightly. He has never felt so saved.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Nightmares consumed his life. They skittered across his skin as he lay in bed, their oily touch clinging to the tiny hairs all over his body. They built up until, as he lay there, trying not to sleep, their plump little black bodies would be all over him, crawling from his eyes and mouth, spilling from his nostrils, and he would wake up, not screaming, but gasping for air, because his throat had been blocked by the dreams just waiting to get him.

 

They ate his life away. Ate up Justin with worry and guilt, gobbled up his day in hours that were too short for a busy sleep deprived man, too short because they lead far too quickly to night, and then to sleep.

 

He had stopped going to Babylon the first time he had passed out on the dance floor after one shot.

 

Drugs, sex, and work. The nightmares stole everything from him he had had ever wanted, ever believed in, ever worked for. But Brian would not give up. When Ted and Cynthia began slowly easing him out of the heavy cases, seeing how tired he was, and what was worse, the amount and quality of the work he ended up doing, Brian began to help Justin with Proposition 14. People there didn’t care if he looked tired and despairing, because they all did, giving up time at work or with their families, or coming in after those responsibilities were done with to sit and talk on the phone with people, many of whom wanted nothing more than to kill them, or convert them back to some kind of pretence at what they believed was normalcy.

 

Christ, Brian probably wasn’t even the worst sob story in the place. They also had no problem with him slipping off to take the 40 minute cat naps he now knew he could afford, before he slipped into REM sleep, and then into his dreams. Much longer without a decent night of benign dreams and he was quite sure he would go insane. The work helped, the monotony of it boring but simple, simple enough to keep his mind awake and focused on something besides his dreams, but not enough that he would slip and make a costing mistake, the way he had several times at Kinnetic.

 

Justin worried, and blamed himself, and quietly packed all that blame away for hour long rants to his mother, or to Ben, and did the best he fucking could. Brian replaced exciting and innovative and sexy with simple and doable, amazing sex in public to ok half asleep sex in bed, alcohol and weed with caffeine and E. Ecstasy helped a lot, sent him high enough to forget, and give him some fucking amazing orgasms in the process, but Brian was wary of addiction in a way that he hadn’t been just a few years ago, before Ted, before Justin, before Gus, because even if Brian was a piss poor excuse for a father these days he’d be damned before he left Gus alone with no one.

 

Then one night he and Justin were walking home from the GLC together. It had become a routine for them, to go back to the loft together, because although they spent all day in the same building, they saw surprisingly little of each other once they were there. Brian had managed close to three hours sleep that afternoon before someone had had to shake him awake, so he was feeling pretty good.

 

It was freezing outside, and Brian slipped his cold hands under the hem of Justin’s T-shirt, just to hear him gasp. Justin did gasp, a puff of air that misted in front of his mouth, and then he yelled a little, but not like he was really angry, and twisted trying to get away.

 

He finally turned to retaliate, and Brian let him, feeling the slide of skin under his palms, mapping out the span of Justin’s slim waist with his fingertips. He let him slide his own cold hands inside his coat and then his shirt, icy cold hands flat against his chest, right pinkie circling Brian’s left nipple. He let him push his cold nose against the exposed triangle of skin, huffing a little at the sensation, but not even flinching away, and then up came Justin’s head, and they were kissing, frozen lips chafing at each other, the inside of Justin’s mouth boiling hot in contrast.

 

Brian pulled back and rested his forehead against Justin’s, letting go a chuckle from deep inside his throat. This was the best he had felt in a long time. He was still worn out, still terrified of the night to come, but he could feel Justin, hot-cold and alive beneath his palms, beneath his lips, and for just a moment, all was right with the world.

 

“Fucking faggots.”

 

The cry rang out into the cold night, and Brian’s whole body just shriveled up, folded in upon itself. He looked around and realized that they had come far enough from Liberty Avenue for it not to be safe, for them to need a quiet corner or alley way to even kiss in.

 

Justin was shaking his head, and tugging on his wrist, obviously wanted to get him home and out of harm’s way. But Brian looked up and saw the man that had called out to them.

 

He was older than them, in his late forties, and he was puffed up with a bit of pride at having chased a couple of fags off of his street. “That’s right, run away,” he yelled as Justin began to lead him away. “Stay away from decent, god-fearing people.”

 

Without even realizing he had moved Brian was holding the guy by the collar, forcing him back against his own front door. He must have broken free of Justin, must have run half way up the street, but he didn’t remember any of it.

 

His head was full of the man in front of him, thick set, slightly balding, and with all that pride replaced with fear. Brian tried to think of something to say, something clever and witty to perfectly sum up the moment, like the ad man he was, but nothing would come. So instead he settled for slamming his knee up, hard. The guy doubled over, and Brian kept a hold of the back of his collar and slammed his head into his knee, and then dragged him back up to pin against the wall again, rough brick scraping his knuckles and the back of the guy’s head.

 

“Just remember,” he snarled into his ear, “A ‘fucking faggot’ did this to you, and so can any of the rest of us. So think about that the next time you feel like yelling at one of us in the street.”

 

Finally he let him go, and the guy began to relax, the panic began to drain out of his eyes. The last thing he saw was Brian’s fist coming towards his face before it all went black.

 

Then Brian was running, running with Justin somehow beside him, holding onto his hand and trip-stumbling a little from his shorter legs. They reached the loft more quickly than Brian could have believed, although euphoria could easily have been doing what anger had done earlier and blocked out most of the journey, and then Justin shoved him back into the elevator and set it going, before sinking to his knees and sucking him off.

 

It was sloppy, messy and wet, not one of the best Justin had ever given, but there was heat and suction and a blonde head beneath his hands and Brian came far too quickly into Justin’s mouth, again, not the best he’d ever had, but the best he’d had in a while that hadn’t been helped along with drugs.

 

He realized that Justin’s hand was moving rapidly inside his jeans and he pulled him up to help him finish the job, forcing his hand inside Justin’s underwear and gripping his hard sticky cock, pulling and stroking, and kissing him and biting at his neck until Justin jerked against him and went still, Brian only realizing from the lack of movement that Justin had been rutting against him in the first place.

 

Neither of them knew when the lift had arrived, but they were grateful that it had, pulling up the bars and wearily searching for the keys to open the door. It was all Justin could do to set the alarm, seeing that Brian was too tired to do it, before shuffling across to the bed and shucking his clothes, to collapse on the mattress in an exhausted heap. Brian was already there and he followed Justin into unconsciousness without a second thought, all the sleepless nights followed by a huge surge of adrenaline finally catching up with him.

 

The nightmares could come. Now, Brian was tired.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian drifted gently into consciousness, a slow awakening that seemed to take hours. At first there was nothing but light behind his eyelids; he felt barely conscious, aware of nothing more than being awake.

 

Then other sensations began to filter in: soft warmth – his duvet draped over his back. Sweat sticky too hot skin at his knees; belly; chest; arm. A small pool of saliva in the hollow of his collar bone. Justin curled up against him. Dry cracks on his hand – the semen he had forgotten to wash off, forgotten was even there, dried onto his palm and probably his sheets.

 

A small breeze on his foot where it poked out of the duvet; Justin’s murmur when Brian jerked it back into the warmth; the noise of the traffic muted by his windows; the light streaming through the panes of glass to rest on his eyelids. A bone deep satisfaction spread throughout his entire body, at once familiar and strange.

 

Brian jerked straight up in bed, the motion pushing Justin’s head to bounce on the mattress.

 

“Wugh?” he enquired intelligently as the movement jolted him awake. He shook his head. “Brian? What- mmmph!”

 

Brian landed a loud smacking kiss on his mouth and then jumped out of bed, joy making him act far more happily than he can ever remember doing before all of this started. He surveyed his loft, his kingdom and gloried in the bright clean light that glanced off his furniture, proclaiming to the whole world that it was morning, and Brian Kinney had slept the whole night through without a nightmare.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder and Brian turned smoothly to take Justin in his arms, glorying in nerves not scraped raw by lack of sleep. He was aware but not afraid of his entire surroundings in a way he never had been before, and when Justin looked at him with a hopeful question shining in his eyes Brian could not help himself.

 

He wrapped his arms around the smaller body, dipped him so that he was half hanging over the stairs down from his bed and gave him a full Hollywood kiss, gentle and teasing and messy and hungry, before carefully depositing him back on his feet.

 

Justin swayed for a moment, dizzy, and then said, thoughtfully, “We’ve done that before, haven’t we?”

 

Brian was about to protest that of course they hadn’t, because only when he was that happy and silly would Brian stoop to such depths when he remembered the Prom. He wanted to pick Justin up and spin him around, thinking that he had finally remembered, but suddenly realized that Justin only looked confused. He had not remembered, only felt a sudden déjà vu at Brian’s actions.

 

The older man sobered a little, but somehow knew, with his new found clarity, exactly what to do, when before he had always been flying without a net. “Yes, Sunshine,” he said gently, taking Justin into his arms, “we have.”

 

Justin just nodded into his chest, still slightly dazed and half asleep, barely understanding what was happening. Suddenly he drew away from his lover.

 

“Brian,” he said slowly, “it’s morning.”

 

A grin stretched across Brian’s face quite without him meaning to. “Yes,” he agreed.

 

“We fell asleep early,” Justin told him, face crinkled in confusion.

 

“Yes,” Brian said again.

 

“But then – why didn’t you wake me?”

 

“What?” The question threw Brian slightly.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me,” Justin repeated himself, “when you had a nightmare?”

 

“Why don’t you tell me, Justin?”

 

A moment later Brian found himself in a position that he had most definitely never been in before. Justin had seized him, swung them around and then somehow dipped the taller man over his arm, kissing him as thoroughly as he could, and then pushed him carefully back up.

 

“I – I guess you’re happy for me then?” Brian gasped out, too shocked at what had happened to protest Justin’s treatment of him.

 

Justin smirked at him. “Happy for you?” He raised an eyebrow. “No. Just glad to get a decent night’s sleep for once.

 

Brian gaped.

 

Then Justin ruined the effect by launching himself into Brian’s arms, forcing the already shocked man to hold onto him as he twined arms and legs around Brian’s body.

 

“Bed,” Justin said forcefully, placing fierce kisses all over Brian’s face. “Bed. Now.”

 

“W-why?”

 

“I’m going to tire you out again.”

 

Brian threw him onto the mattress, then stood and glared at him. “And what gave you the impression you were in charge?” he asked. His face attempted the usual Kinney sneer, but fell short as his mouth kept twitching upwards.

 

“You did,” Justin told him happily. “But I’ll let you pretend to be, if you want. It’s good for your flagging ego,” he offered as Brian gave up the fight to look serious and pounced on the younger man.

 

They stayed in bed all day, and the loft rang with their laughter.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

 

With a flash of light everything the two of them had worked to build was gone, buried under charred remains.

 

Brian should have known, really, that it was all too good to last. They had prepared for it, when the initial euphoria had worn off, and they had woken from Brian’s second nightmare free sleep.

 

We can’t expect it to get better straight away, they had warned each other. They both fully expected the nightmares to come back: worst case scenario was this being a single reprieve, that his nightmares would come back and swallow up his life again. The best case scenario was that they would simply fade, becoming less and less frequent with time.

 

Neither one dared to hope that they would simply disappear.

 

It was only after a week of no nightmares, a week of being awake enough to realize just how _boring_ his work against Proposition 14 was, that Brian had begun to think of his life in the long term again. He had begun to plan days, even weeks in advance; his life had stopped being about living through the next few hours; it had become simply about living.

 

Everything was slowly coming together and Brian reveled in it. The day he had gone back to work – admittedly for something like the fifth time since this whole fiasco had started – had been one of the best of his life.

 

“Cynthia,” he said, pushing through the double doors as if he had never left, “I want to see the files for every account we are currently working on. This afternoon you, Ted, and anyone else I need to see will bring me up to date on it all. Given that I’m the boss, and, therefore, brilliant, if I do not know everything I need to by eight this evening, the two of you will be held personally responsible. Understand?”

 

Cynthia grinned up at him, teeth shining white against her red lips.

 

“It’s good to have you back, boss,” she said, and although Brian ignored her, he didn’t deny being the one responsible for the flowers that arrived on her desk at lunchtime.

 

“Where are my flowers, Brian?” Ted mock complained. Brian spent 15 minutes giving him a lecture on the fact that he thought he’d employed an accountant, not a queen; that just because Ted took it up the ass did not mean that he was a girl; and that he needed employees with balls, not good decorating skills. Ted took the whole thing with a smile on his face, and Cynthia, who normally would have had something to say about the sexist nature of Brian’s speech, just looked down at him benevolently.

 

By the end of the day he had yelled at three people, begun to re-work two different accounts which he couldn’t let go on in the state they had been, and pushed another five back so that he’d have time for them. He had a mountain of work ahead of him, and instead of losing himself in it, he relished the challenge. To make it all somehow work and bring his social life back to its former peak – that would be fun.

 

Piece by piece his life had slotted back into place. His world revolved around Kinnetic and Babylon, Justin and Gus. He had somehow found an equilibrium that he hadn’t felt since before Justin had come along and turned his life upside down. Even then, he couldn’t remember feeling so content, and yet so full of promise for his future. He wasn’t monogamous and his life was definitely not monotonous, but he had been, for the first time in his life, complete.

 

Even the lack of Michael had not thrown him. Somehow, the boyhood friend he had thought he could not live without was no longer necessary. The place in his heart which Michael had once filled, which had at first felt like a gaping wound, was now nothing but a dull ache. It was covered in scar tissue, to be sure, but it had shrunk so as to be almost unnoticeable, his feelings for his lover, his son and his friends creeping in to fill up the space.

 

When the venue for the Stop Prop 14 was cancelled at the last minute he had agreed to let them use Babylon without a second thought – although he had enjoyed an entire evening of Justin ‘persuading’ him that it was a good idea. He would never admit it, but the people there had given him exactly what he needed at the time when he needed it the most, and giving up one night of profits at Babylon was the least he could do to pay them back.

 

He was not planning to go though – there had been other, earlier intrusions on his new found happiness. When Justin had finally gotten around to showing him the review of his work – and Brian only saw it weeks after the fact – a cold hand had grasped his hand, and twisted it in his chest – Justin would have to leave him.

 

He knew it as surely as he knew Justin knew it – he had seen the fact hidden deep in his eyes when he waited for Brian’s reaction his article. The exposure was good – it would get his work sold – but it was not enough. For him to become everything he could be, he needed to be where he would be noticed. And Brian could not afford to go with him.

 

Nor, however, could he afford to keep Justin by his side when they both knew that he should be somewhere else, did not dare to hold on for as long as he could only to see love turn to resentment.

 

Justin, of course, did not agree. “This is my life,” he argued, “everything I need is here: you, Gus, my friends, my Mom, the comic. I have everything I need right here.” All Brian had needed to hear was how much of Justin’s life was bound up in Brian before he knew what he had to do. Push Justin off another cliff.

 

It wouldn’t be easy though, Brian was certain. He had no desire to push Justin out of his life forever, wasn’t sure he could actually manage without him. He had to push just hard enough to tip him over the edge, but make sure he had a trampoline at the bottom.

 

By this point Brian knew that he had pushed the metaphor to its limit, and his head was spinning in circles, but something still needed to be done. It required far more finesse than simply shoving the boy out of his door or fucking another guy in front of him. His head had begun to ache.

 

Eventually he had hit on the idea of a holiday. Justin and he had never actually been away together, apart from their strange trip to Hawaii, which Brian refused to count given the fact that he had had no memory at the time. It would give both of them perspective, and give Justin time away from everything but Brian which was keeping him in Pittsburgh. And Brian, Brian would show him how good the two of them were, how good they could still be even with Justin in another city, because the two of them apart simply didn’t make sense.

 

So Brian had two first class tickets to gay Mardis Gras tucked away in his desk. There was no reason they couldn’t have some fun while they were away.

 

Justin had been surprisingly reluctant when Brian brought the idea up. He loved the idea of going to Australia, but when Brian let him know that the only flights he could get would mean missing the Proposition 14 benefit he had been more upset than Brian had bargained on.

 

“I – we’ve been working on this for months,” he protested. “We can’t just leave everyone to do this without us.”

 

“Fuck everyone else, Sunshine,” Brian told him, waving the tickets in front of his face. “Two weeks of dancing and fucking. Just you and me.”

 

“You and me and a thousand other horny fags,” Justin said wryly, but he was smiling.

 

“Just you and me,” Brian said again. “We won’t even look at anyone else if you don’t want.” He winced a little internally at the offer, but if that was what it took to get Justin to come with him, he’d do it.

 

His lover looked at him sharply, obviously taken off guard. “What? Brian, I’ve told you before, I don’t need you to change for me-”

 

“I’m not,” Brian interrupted smoothly. “But this holiday really is just about you and me. We can fuck as many gorgeous guys as we like here in the Pitts – I bet we can even find one with a cute Aussie accent. We – I don’t need other people, not all the time. In fact,” he added, pulling Justin against him, “I never need other people. Just other bodies.”

 

Justin slapped him lightly on the chest, but grinned up at him and gave him a light kiss. “So this isn’t enough for you anymore?” he asked, turning slightly so that his ass pushed into Brian’s dick, making the older man gasp slightly.

 

“More than,” Brian told him, pulling him back to give him a proper kiss, lips sliding wetly together as he pushed his tongue forward, relearning the contours of Justin’s mouth. Justin was panting a little when his lover finally drew back, pupils blown wide, lips turned a bright red.

 

“So you’ll come?” Brian asked before kissing him again, but the effect was spoiled when Justin laughed into his mouth and then pushed him away.

 

“Wait a minute,” he said, still grinning. "I'll try and figure something out. When does the plane leave?”

 

Brian grudgingly released him to check the tickets. “Not till 11:00,” he admitted a little sulkily, “but we have to be there hours before to check in.”

 

“Look,” Justin said reasonably, “I can’t – won’t” he added when Brian looked about to argue, “leave this benefit entirely. It means too much. But you go ahead, get us checked in, and I’ll be there by 10:00. I can be there to help set up and get everything started, and we’ll still get the pretty boys in Australia.”

 

Brian still felt a little put upon, a little sulky, but unwilling to show it, he acquiesced. Justin seemed to know exactly how he felt though. “By the way,” he whispered into Brian’s ear, “you’re welcome to ignore all the gorgeous guys with the cute accents and the hot bodies if you want, but I sure as hell won’t, and it’s so much more fun when you join in.”

 

Brian looked at him for a second, blinked, and then yanked him into a hard kiss. When he pulled away Justin was still grinning at him, so Brian kissed him over to the couch, pulled his pants down and proceeded to guarantee that Justin wouldn’t be doing anything for a long time besides calling his name. Justin was just decidedly grateful for Brian’s lack of a gag reflex.

 

<<<<>>>> 

 

Brian should have known better. He should have known that his nightmares leaving him just opened up a place for something new to come in and fuck with his life. But really, how could anyone have foreseen this?

 

Once again, his life had been at what felt like a high point. On his way to the airport, knowing that the benefit was in full swing, his and his friends’ hard work helping to keep the world safe for fags everywhere. Or at least keep Pittsburgh a safer place. In just a few hours he and the love of his life would be on their way to Australia, to dance and have fun and fuck their brains out, and hopefully resolve what the hell Justin was going to do with his life.

 

And then this. A news report telling him that his club has exploded. Searching through smoky ruins, grateful every time he sees someone he knows alive, but a little part of him dying every time it wasn’t Justin.

 

Justin. Justin finally there, finally in his arms, real and alive, even if he’s covered in soot and obviously shaken. But Michael, boyhood friend Michael, who Brian only just thought he might be able to live without. Yelling at a doctor to take his blood, hoping against hope for his best friend to stay alive. Holding Justin in his arms and begging him never to leave him, and Justin kissing him, death and life somewhere in that kiss.

 

All Brian was ever able to remember of that night was those impressions. He couldn't even remember the day preceding it. Justin or Michael being gone was all that remained of that night.

 

Brian begged Justin not to leave him, and Justin promised he wouldn’t, but he was terrified by the idea of his lover’s life being snuffed out like that before he got the chance to do what he was born to do. Be an artist. The point was only driven in more sharply when he woke a few nights later to find the bed cold and Justin on the other side of the loft, painting.

 

“I learned this from the bashing,” he said as Brian approached. “When they try to kill you, you have to create something. It lets you know you’re alive. Lets them know they haven’t succeeded.”

 

Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist, nuzzled at his neck, and then looked down at what he was painting. The mix of colors, bleak and dark, and then radiating outwards towards light, took his breath away.

 

“You have to leave,” he said finally. Justin started at the sound of his voice, almost dropping the brush. He carefully set it down before turning.

 

“Brian - ”

 

“I mean it,” Brian said. “I don’t want you gone. God knows I don’t want you away from me, but you need to be. You’re an artist. You need to be recognized for what you are, and the only place that’s going to happen is New York. And I…”  he sighed. “I can’t follow you. Not yet.”

 

“No,” Justin told him. “I’ve told you before, my life is here. I have everything I want here. I’m not leaving you, and you can’t make me. This is not the time to shove me off another one of your damn cliffs for my own good.”

 

Brian just huffed and then pressed a kiss to Justin’s forehead. “Ok,” he said, and left Justin to his painting, the younger man knowing that he had won the argument far too easily.

 

He was certain that Brian hadn’t given up when he half shoved him into his car a few weeks later and drove him out miles past the city limits. When Brian told him that the house they pulled up at was theirs, he didn’t know what to think.

 

“You bought this?”

 

“I’d hoped it would be all you dreamed,” Brian told him.

 

“And more. But I don’t understand, I though you wanted me to leave?”

 

“I do. But what’s more, I want you to know what you have to come back to. No, listen,” he said, when Justin tried to interrupt. “You have become the most important person in my life. I want you. Always. Nothing that could happen could change my mind. But you still have so much to do, so much potential. You wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with if you didn’t push to chase your dreams.”

 

“You’re my dream,” Justin insisted, but he sounded less sure.

 

“I’m part of it,” Brian agreed. “But having one doesn’t mean losing the other. Leave here, go to New York and be the best fag, the best artist, the best person you can be. And we’ll rack up thousands of air miles flying to see each other. And when you’re done you’ll come back here, and marry me.”

 

“I’ll what?” Justin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t seem to take air into his lungs. The room started spinning slightly.

 

“You’ll marry me.” Brian shrugged. “You know. If you want.”

 

“You bought this – this palace,” Justin gasped out.

 

“For my Prince.”

 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

 

“You love it.”

 

Justin stared at him for a moment. “Yes.”

 

“Yes what?”

 

 “Yes, I’ll go to New York.”

 

Brian’s shoulders slumped slightly. It was what he wanted, but hearing it from Justin’s mouth made it almost too much to bear.

 

Justin took a deep breath. “And yes. I’ll marry you.”

 

Brian didn’t stop to take the moment in, just grabbed and kissed him, putting all the love that he had ever felt for the man in front of him into that kiss.

 

His boy was going out to make his mark on the world. And then he was coming home. To Brian.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'd like to comment on the psychology I've used in the story, particularly in this chapter. I know next to nothing about hypnotism, and what's described here is almost entirely made up. As to Brian's bouts of amnesia, and their cause being repressed memories, I've been told by my psychology professor that these events are certainly possible, if unlikely. Reactions to traumatic events are often strange and extremely varied. My only claim to psychology training is that I took an A-level in it (something roughly the equivalent of the first or first and second years of studying it at an American university, depending hugely on the course and institution), and most of Brian's issues in this story are written based on those two years of study. 
> 
> Secondly, thank you, if you have, for reading this far in the story. Although this story has next to nothing to do with my life (despite a few people from my life actually being inserted into it) writing it got me through a very difficult time in my life, and so it will always be very important to me. I hope you enjoyed it.


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